Tempered Steel
by MyFirstistheFourth
Summary: Sherlock struggles with being a mate. John faces an unknown desire. While an enemy seeks to destroy a bond and the men who share it. Alpha/Omega dynamics. Angst and Feels abound but All Shall Be Well Friends! Teen for now but may be mature in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

London lay languid, painted a thousand shades of brilliant orange and gold as the sun began her nightly descent toward the horizon; Britain's jewel doubly adorned by nature herself. John stared out of the cab window, for once oblivious to the raw beauty of the city he loved. The placid face John wore would have convinced any who met him of his state of calm. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the fingers drumming against his thigh as his knee bounced up and down rhythmically. All unconscious actions indicating the somewhat distracted and nervous state in which John found himself. John was, in fact, so lost in thought that he failed to notice their arrival at Baker Street.

"Oi, mate," the cabbie called for the second time, "We're here yeah!"

John shook off his daze, quickly apologizing and paying the cabbie. Alone on the sidewalk he glanced up at the windows of their flat wondering if Sherlock was home. A smile lighting his face as he thought of the night ahead, while a glance at the papers clutched in his hands sent John bounding up the stairs two at a time, hoping anxiously that Sherlock would like the gift he had for him. His enthusiasm waned immediately as John found the flat silent and empty. There didn't seem as if a note was about and a quick glance at his phone showed no messages from Sherlock. In the aftermath of the Fall, conscious of the emotional toll on John, Sherlock did his best to always let John know where he was off to now. It wasn't a perfect system and Sherlock certainly still forgot plenty of times but John had been greatly reassured by the effort being made. Which was in fact why, he wasn't deeply troubled by Sherlock's absence at the moment. Lestrade must have called him off on an interesting case and he had just forgotten in his excitement. John accustomed as he was to tardiness from his mate due to cases, even if they had plans for the night. Unperturbed by the situation John set about making his tea and settled down to read the newspaper. An hour later John had emptied his tea and finished reading the paper, the sun had fully set and there was still no word from Sherlock. John finally gave in and sent a text.

"Where are you?"-JW.

A reply quickly arrived, "On my way home. Shouldn't be too long."-SH.

John smiled and didn't bother to reply deciding instead to indulge in a hot shower.

The shower had done wonders for John, the hot water soothing tense muscles as well as nerves. John found himself feeling refreshed as he began to dress. Glancing down at the all-important papers he had placed on their bureau earlier, John couldn't help but smile as he pulled on the red shirt Sherlock favored on him. Combined with dark jeans and indigo blue jacket, John thought he would pass muster. Sherlock hadn't told him formal dress would be required wherever they would be going tonight after all, nor had he laid out a suit for John to put on so he thought he would be dressed appropriately. John shook his head still wondering at Sherlock's insistence that he be allowed to arrange everything, and his insistence that it be a surprise. Tonight was the one year anniversary of their bonding. Not the anniversary of their ceremony, which was a very nice event at Mycroft's estate with just them and their closest friends in attendance. No, John and Sherlock chose instead to celebrate the date of their bond being formed. The night they became what neither had ever expected nor planned, a mated pair. Two halves of a bond so strong that the only way either of them had found to describe it was a profound sense of being made whole both by and with the other. Sherlock still scoffed at the sentiment inherent in such a statement; however it was John, and it was the truest phrasing of their attachment of one to the other. He learned to accept the sentiment. Sherlock had never sought nor wanted an Omega in any way before meeting John and even then he ignored the pull he felt toward John for a very long time. John likewise had never planned or expected to find an Alpha he felt he could submit to in any way, until he met Sherlock. Mad, strange, eccentric Sherlock who swept into John's life and saved him from himself, repairing the damaged man he was without even knowing it.

Despite years of denial, followed by years of sorrow and suffering, both men found themselves immensely grateful for whatever cosmic twist of fate had brought them together. Sherlock was constantly awed, not because he could love John freely, but that he could receive the same love in return and that alone made him a fortunate man. For his part John was happier than he had ever expected he could be as a mated Omega. They were in no way a typical Alpha and Omega, and genders aside they certainly weren't perfect. Sherlock would never indulge his Alpha nature and command John to his will and John would fight him tooth and nail if he tried. They were both equally stubborn and adept at arguing their points of view, of manipulating the other and getting their way, but they were able to share a give and take most mates never found. Each man completed the other and together they were whole. John chuckled to himself as his thoughts returned to the present and tonight's anniversary. The smile remained as he returned to the living room to await Sherlock.

Another hour had passed since John had received Sherlock's text and John was getting a bit hungry for dinner and starting to feel a bit annoyed at his mate. Still when John heard Sherlock's footsteps on the stairs, he rose quickly to greet him. Sherlock blew into the flat with his usual flurry of energy in motion, the cool mist of an evening fog clinging to his coat and hair.

"Hello Love", John smiled as he reached to put his arms around Sherlock's waist and give him a kiss.

What John received was a mumbled ,"Mmm..", followed by a distracted kiss that hit the corner of his mouth as Sherlock brushed past him without a hug.

John bit down the instant twinge of hurt he felt. He knew how Sherlock's moods could be after all, even on a night like tonight. Perhaps something had happened with the case….maybe their plans were going to have to wait and Sherlock didn't want to tell John. It wouldn't really be surprising either way, John thought, not with the life they led. John had gotten so lost in his thoughts again that it took a moment to realize Sherlock was talking to him.

"John! Really can you focus please! Have you seen where I put the file on the Thompson case? There's been another killing that's almost identical. I need my notes so we can compare them with some other cases Lestrade has open. May actually have another serial killer and you know how I do love those!"

Sherlock had rummaged around the desk as he talked and smirked to himself at his latest quip expecting John's soft chuckle to follow. When a response wasn't forthcoming, he finally glanced up from the desk. John still stood near the door where he had met Sherlock. Hands hanging loose at his sides, John remained silent simply staring at Sherlock as if waiting for something. Sherlock sharpened his focus on John feeling something was off but could not place the expression on his face.

"Yeah," John seemed to shake himself and square his shoulders as he brought his eyes up to meet Sherlock's, "Uhm...right. The folder is in the top file drawer with your most recent cases".

Sherlock finally took in John's attire, too dressy for a night of cases and take-away. His favorite cologne hung in the air and his face was too clean-shaven for this late in the day. Sherlock found he couldn't stop the eyebrow that rose in surprise or the same tone in his voice when he asked, "Going somewhere tonight?" John hadn't mentioned anything about an engagement or friends in town.

John reacted in the blink of an eye and none but Sherlock would have ever caught the flash of emotion in John's eyes before it he had smothered it away and John faced him once more with his implacable soldier's face. Oh how Sherlock hated that face! That face was the result of some mistake or failing made by Sherlock of the "bit not good" variety. And there was no mistaking the emotions he saw, no...Sherlock knew good and well John was bottling up a veritable Vesuvius at this moment. The problem was he didn't know why or what he could do to fix it. He could barely even process his own reaction to his mate's distress at this moment. Sherlock took in John's tense shoulders, his left hand clenching unconsciously at his side, jaw rigid and set, and the intense gaze directed at him. Struggling with his deductions only made Sherlock more uncertain and uncomfortable. What was wrong?

John looked on passively even as he fought his own disappointment and anger. He had been willing to accept if something important had come up to change their plans. That was always possible with them. John could concede annoyance that it couldn't wait til morning but that really was petty and an apology and a rain check could have squared everything. He knew how Sherlock got when there was a case on and that would never change just because of John and an anniversary. But that wasn't it, that wasn't the thing that had him so upset. John just hadn't known. He truly did not realize until Sherlock looked him up and down and instead of complimenting him asked his question.

Until that moment, John had not realized there were no plans for tonight. Despite his insistence, Sherlock had forgotten the anniversary, forgotten about John, and in a way forgotten their bond. John knew none of that was true but he was struggling to stay rational at the moment. Right now, as much as John detested it, his needy Omega nature was making itself known. Reminding him just how much he had needed and wanted this from Sherlock. Something special just for him, a bubble of private time for just the two of them alone, to share gifts, share each other, and a chance to remake their bond anew.

When John thought of the gift he had intended for Sherlock and how even that seemed ruined, the dull ache in his chest became a sharp pain, breathing became a bit harder, and a distinct prickling started behind his eyes. John was about at the limit of his ability to stay calm but damn it all if he was going to start crying in front of Sherlock! He was furious with Sherlock and the situation, then he was furious with himself for being so upset and needy. God when did he start acting like a woman?! That is Not who John Watson is at all! He struggled to keep his composure in front of his hyper-perceptive mate, blinking slowly as he fought the urge to cry in anger, frustration, and hurt. He had to go….had to get out...away from Sherlock before he did or said something pointless. It had only been a moment or two since Sherlock spoke to him but John didn't even realize he had failed to offer any answer as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door, not even trusting himself to speak.

Sherlock had observed everything John worked so hard to hide passing across his face in those moments. He was dizzy from the waves of distress he felt radiating from his mate and took a moment to realize said mate was leaving without a word.

"John! Wait! Aren't you coming to the crime scene with me?"

John froze at the top of the stairs but did not turn.

"No Sherlock. I have to go somewhere." Somewhere far away from you as it so happens, John's brain quickly supplied. "Good-night." It was all John could manage to get out.

Sherlock continued to stare after John, confused and troubled by emotions he often didn't understand. He didn't like this kind of upheaval in his life, certainly not when it pertains to John. Unsure of his next move and feeling less than sure-footed at the moment, Sherlock was not happy. His logical mind battled with deeply seated instinct. Unbidden a low growl issued from his throat as the alpha expressed his displeasure with the situation, instincts screaming at him to calm and soothe his mate. Uncertainty only served to make Sherlock spiteful in defense. Speaking so he was heard down the stairs he called, "Just as well, it's not like I'll need you there to get the case solved!" Sherlock knew his comment had found its mark as surely as any marksman when he heard John's steps falter on the stairway. A moment later he recalled why he should not sling such arrows at the man he loved when the arrow returned and pierced his own heart with the ache carried in John's voice.

"You're right Sherlock….why would you ever need me?"

John had already left the building, the door closing quietly behind him before Sherlock's reply drifted down the empty stairwell. "I always need you John."

John managed to hail a cab and get inside before the shaking started. "Can...can you just drive," John asked the cabbie, "Anywhere you want to go...just drive."

"Sure mate. It's your money." he answered as he started the meter and merged into traffic.

A shaky "Thanks." was all John could manage before leaning his head against the window while the tears began to fall unchecked.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sherlock contemplated the empty doorway for a long moment asking himself what had just happened. After all this time, why would he say something like that to John of all people. Long-suffering, caring, giving, ever faithful John, his own mate for God's sake! For once Sherlock did not even need someone to tell him that his behavior had been a 'bit not good'. It was all too clear in the sound of John's voice, in the quiet reply. Sherlock had heard sadness and resignation in that voice, as if John actually believed what he said.

Sherlock was unaware that he had started to pace the parlor while he worked through his scrambled thoughts and emotions. The internal war raged on as the Alpha snapped and snarled insisting on finding his mate; that he bring him home to comfort and soothe away whatever had brought about this distress. Logically, Sherlock's inner voice informed him, John certainly wouldn't want to see him now. Sherlock should give him some space, a little time to calm down and he would return home when he was ready. John always returned home. The Alpha roared once more, 'What if he doesn't this time?'! Sherlock grimaced in frustration clenching fingers tightly in his hair before scrubbing his scalp vigorously trying to silence the conflicting voices. The debate raged on until a text alert sent Sherlock scrambling for his mobile hoping it was John.

The text was from Lestrade; however, asking when to expect him at the crime scene. At that moment a third option became clear and Sherlock seized upon it in an instance. He could sublimate all of this chaos and turmoil, bury it all and focus on the work. It had always worked for Sherlock in the past. And if he steadfastly ignored the little voice pointing out that was before John came along….before he became a bonded Alpha, who was going to know. Shooting a text off to Lestrade, Sherlock grabbed the file off of his desk and headed out the door. The last thought he allowed himself on the matter, before shutting it away with all the rest, was 'What did I do?' Sherlock knew he had said or done something to upset John but no matter how many times the evening replayed in his mind the cause remained elusive.

John felt ridiculous sitting in a cab not even seeing the scene outside his window for the tears that continued to roll down his cheeks. Angrily he scrubbed his hands over his face trying to stop the tears and get a grip on his emotions. It wasn't as if this was the worst thing Sherlock had ever done. John had survived drugs, verbal insults, abandonment, toxic fumes and any number of other trials associated with living with Sherlock. And simply forgetting an anniversary could in no way compare with forcing your best friend to witness your apparent suicide and letting said friend believe you were dead for nearly three years. No surely nothing could approach that pain. Just knowing that they could not bear to ever be without each other like that again had led John and Sherlock to finally admit their feelings and accept the bond that now tied them together forever. Knowing that, why did this hurt so badly? Had John really expected Sherlock to act any differently in this than in anything else. And John realized that, yes, he had expected. It hurt because today mattered. This was the day that for better or worse changed the course of their lives a year ago and for John, who could never deny his romantic nature, it was important. And Sherlock? Sherlock had forgotten it completely, forgotten his promises. John couldn't stop the thought that maybe it just wasn't as important to Sherlock. Nor could he stop the swell of nausea he felt at the thought.

John absently rubbed his right hand over the dull ache in his stomach realizing he still hadn't had any supper. He really should eat something. Unfortunately, that thought reminded him of the other reason his heart was hurting so much. The gift yet not yet given, the gift that changed everything John had ever thought he wanted or needed. Today John realized a dream he never even admitted he carried, not even to himself. A dream made real in the black and white print confirming a child was on the way, their child. The unexpected gift he had found himself so thrilled over and so anxious to share with his mate. Tonight should have been an evening neither of them would ever forget, a first anniversary and a their first child on the way. John had no fanciful notions of a houseful of children; not with the lives they led and certainly not at his age, this child alone was a miracle to John.

What John had thought would be a perfect night ruined by Sherlock just being himself. John knew he couldn't help his romantic heart nor the Omega nature he was born with just as Sherlock couldn't help his struggles with emotion and sentiment. No John was hurt because he had gotten his hopes up when he should have known better. So instead John rode through London, alone in a cab with his thoughts and his tears.

He would have to go home eventually. And he would still have to break the news to Sherlock as well, but it was all just too much to deal with at the moment. He wondered idly what Sherlock was doing now, probably off on the case. John fingered the phone in his pocket contemplating sending Sherlock a text. John let it go when he realized he simply didn't know what he would say to him. He continued instead to gaze out of the window into the misty evening enjoying for a moment the corona of halos formed by the colorful neon lights of London at night giving everything an otherworldly appearance.

The cabbie glanced back at the obviously upset passenger and spoke up, "Oi mate? Have you decided where you want to go? I mean I can drive you in circles all night but you don't strike me as a bloke who pays for that kind of joy-ride on a regular basis."

John couldn't help but laugh at the cabbie's candor and returned the man's smile as he replied, "No, you're certainly right about that. I really have no idea what I want to do just now. It is getting late though and I haven't had dinner. Why don't you head back toward Baker Street and you can let me out at Regent's Park. It's not too bad a night for a nice stretch of the legs right?" John managed a genuine warm smile for the cabbie having at least made some sort of plan. He could grab something to eat on the walk back to the flat.

The cabbie smiled right back, "Too right mate, Regent's Park it is!"

John, always calmer when he had decided a path to take, was brushing the last tears away with the palm of his hand when he felt the vibrating phone in his pocket. Truly John never liked it when Sherlock and he were at odds with each other as it made him feel deeply unsettled, especially since the bonding. Hoping for a text from Sherlock, John reached to pull the phone from his coat pocket and glanced down to check the messages. He never saw the glare of headlights speeding towards them. He barely even registered the loud blaring of a car horn before the world shattered and went black.

Arriving on the scene, Sherlock didn't even bother with his usual banter with Donovan but went straight to the body. Handing Lestrade the necessary folder, Sherlock pulled out his pocket magnifier and got to work. Lestrade glanced through the file while he watched Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. He could tell from experience that Sherlock was making quick work of his deductions tonight. Good news for him since it meant less time out on a bloody damp and chilly crime scene.

"Really glad you could help me out tonight Sherlock. I was hoping it wasn't the wrong night. Didn't want to interfere you know." Lestrade smiled knowingly over at Sherlock. The man himself only paused in his work and glanced up at him with a puzzled expression.

"What are you going on about Lestrade? I always come!"

Lestrade was getting that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach as he gazed intently at Sherlock. That funny feeling that said something wasn't quite right to a detective with his many years of experience in the field. 'Where was John? Why wasn't he here with Sherlock?' Not liking the thought that was nagging his mind Lestrade nervously shifted his weight and nodded down at Sherlock as he replied, "Yeah. You always come...unless you have something particular going on with John. I mean I know your anniversary is close and you guys were planning something special. I just didn't…...didn't want to interfere….." Lestrade couldn't help the stutter in his voice or finishing almost in a whisper when Sherlock's head had jerked up sharply and those eyes pierced him with their steely gaze. Sherlock shot up from the ground and practically stormed the few steps over to Lestrade who unconsciously recoiled from the icy voice that spat at him.

"What...is...today's date?"

Lestrade shuddered, now fearing the worse as he answered, "It's March, Sherlock…..March twenty-sixth."

"Oh...OH!" The lightbulb finally went off in Sherlock's mind. His eyes fell closed in shame and he staggered back against Lestrade's car shaking his head and letting out the barest whimper of sound as the full realization of what he had done hit him. The dull ache from earlier exploded into a throbbing pain.

Lestrade looked on for a moment his suspicions now confirmed. "It was tonight wasn't it?"

Eye's still closed, Sherlock only nodded.

"And you…...you forgot didn't you?! You didn't make **Any** plans?!"

Again a silent nod. No wonder John wasn't here. Lestrade's heart broke for his good friend as his anger flared at Sherlock.

"Sherlock! How could you **Do** that to John?! Do you even know how much he has looked forward to this?! To you actually doing something nice just for him….for the two of you!" Lestrade couldn't stop the way his voice rose as he berated the man in front of him. Obviously he had not even been aware of his mistake. Which meant that John had been too hurt, embarrassed, and most likely too angry to point it out to Sherlock. 'Where exactly was John now? What was he doing on his own and hurting?'

"Sodding Hell Sherlock! You two have been through too much! And John! John has been hurt enough because of you!" "You!" Lestrade stabbed his finger at Sherlock. "You...are supposed...to be... making things better, Not hurting him again for God's sake!"

Sherlock heard it all, took it all in and tossed it on the raging bonfire of his own self recrimination. His mind replayed the evening in an instant and ongoing replay. Everything that he, for once, saw but failed to observe glaring at him in accusation. John so clearly dressed to go out, wearing Sherlock's favorite red shirt. The brilliant smile and open arms John greeted him with when he got home. The hurt and confusion quickly hidden when Sherlock brushed him off with barely a kiss. Even internally Sherlock winced at the memory of that face. And….OH! Oh, stupid, stupid, Stupid! That flicker of disappointment and sadness when Sherlock asked him about going out. That was it! The look he couldn't place earlier, the moment John realized he had forgotten. That there were no plans because Sherlock hadn't made them. Oh everything made sense now. Sherlock cringed even more when he replayed the cruel petty way he had spoken to John adding even more sting to his betrayal. Yes, Sherlock knew exactly what he had done to John tonight and he the shame of it mortified him. How….how was he ever going to make this right?

Lestrade was losing all patience with the silent man in front of him.

"Fuck's sake Sherlock! Say something!"

He found himself taken aback when watery eyes met his and a broken voice that should never belong to Sherlock whispered, "What do I do?"

"Well first off, where is John now?"

"I don't know. He left...I didn't know why. And now I have no idea where he's gone?!" Sherlock looked at Lestrade expectantly after his rushed pronouncement.

Lestrade fought the urge to roll his eyes and thought to himself that John was going to owe him big for this. "Well first, you are going to find John. Then you are going to grovel like the sorry excuse for a mate you are. And then, just maybe John will let you Begin to try to make it up to him. Okay?!"

As he talked Lestrade had been bustling Sherlock toward the road to hail a cab.

"Try the flat first. Maybe he's cooled off and is back at home already. And don't worry about the case. You've observed all you need here and I've got the file. You can text me the rest later. After you square things with John!"

Sherlock looked genuinely relieved, "Thank you Greg."

Lestrade blinked at the use of his name but Sherlock's gratitude was sincere.

"You're welcome Sherlock. That is what friends are for you know. Now no worries and get on with you." Lestrade waved him off as a cab pulled up.

Sherlock nodded his good-byes, quickly giving the cabbie the address and climbing into the cab. All of his attention was now focused on John. Impatient to see John and needing to do something Sherlock fired off a text.

"I am so sorry I forgot. Please come home."-SH

Sherlock sat back in his seat drumming his fingers on his thigh, hoping for a swift reply.

Across London, in a cab with its side crushed in by a drunk driver, a text alert sounded. While lights colored red, blue, and yellow flashed across the scene, a phone lay in the floor of the cab next to the motionless hand it had fallen from. And a text went unread and unanswered.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sherlock took the stairs two at a time, anxious to get to the flat. There had been no answer to his text. In Sherlock's mind this only reinforced how badly he had botched things up with John. He hated it when John was angry with him. It didn't matter though even if all he got was a stony, silent glare, Sherlock would take it if only John would be home. But the only thing to meet Sherlock's gaze was a cold, dark, flat; eerily seeming lifeless without John in his chair to greet him.

Already on edge from tonight's events, Sherlock began to panic; the Alpha searching for signs of a missing mate. What if John had left for real? What if he had returned home packed his things and left? John wouldn't do that would he? He always came home after he calmed down! The Alpha was having none of Sherlock's logic and instinct drove him to search their room. Thankfully a quick search is all that's required to find John's clothes and toiletries in their proper places. Why didn't that make Sherlock feel better or calm the Alpha's instinct to find and protect? Where was John?!

Sherlock leaned against the bureau; his long fingers peaked beneath his chin as he contemplated the next place to look for John. Harry's? Not likely. The pub? Possibly. Mike? Sarah? Each one cataloged according to the likelihood of finding John. A sheet of paper, disturbed earlier by Sherlock's nervous movements, caught his attention as it slide off of the bureau and fluttered to the floor. Sherlock reached to pick it up, intending only to return it, until he noticed a familiar letterhead. The name of John's personal doctor stood out instantly to Sherlock. John had not mentioned any appointments with his doctor nor any physical ailment needing one. For a man who normally knew his mate's every thought with just a glance, this unknown sparked his worry anew.

Sherlock grabbed the other papers from their resting place and quickly sifted through them. Lab work, an ultrasound report, apparent follow-up appointments and instructions did nothing to ease his fears as Sherlock began to read. The words leaping from the page painted a vivid picture for Sherlock's fertile mind. Mild anemia, elevated HGG, positive results, single fetus, eight weeks gestation, risks associated with advanced maternal age in the Omega, and estimated due date.

The papers fell from his fingers as a soft sob escaped his throat.

"Oh John!" His John….His mate was pregnant with their child. Judging by the date on the reports, John had just gotten the results today. Obviously John had waited to tell him tonight and Sherlock had ruined that as well.

Sherlock sat on the side of their bed with his head in his hands as silent tears rolled down the sharp planes of his face. How many more ways could he fail John as his mate in one night he wondered. And how….How was he ever going to make this night up to John. How could he ever make This right?! Sherlock had no answers to these questions as he continued to sit seemingly trapped in his silent torment and unable to decide his next course of action.

That is exactly where Lestrade found him fifteen minutes later. The firm hand on his shoulder as Lestrade called his name softly stirring him from his stupor. Reddened, wet eyes gazed expectantly at the inspector. Lestrade met Sherlock's gaze for a long moment before saying simply, "Come on. I'll take you to John."

Too relieved that Greg knew where John was, Sherlock did not think to question him further. For once he simply followed the inspector to his waiting car, his thoughts only on seeing John again.

They drove in relative silence, both lost in thoughts of this night. Sherlock still pondered what he would say to John when he saw him. How to even begin to repair the damage he had caused being his biggest concern. Sherlock, finding it necessary to suppress his Alpha nature to think more clearly, was completely unaware of the low growl he was making in his throat.

Lestrade, an Omega himself, was acutely aware of it. He kept his eyes on the road ahead wary of giving anything away before he had to, while he thought back over the events from earlier. Jesus, had it even been an hour ago?!

Once Sherlock was on his way, Lestrade returned to his team, overseeing the documentation and clearing of the scene. Not even ten minutes later Lestrade's phone rang. Mycroft's name on the caller ID while unexpected was hardly a surprise.

"Hello Mycroft. I've already done my bit for the happy couple tonight but you really didn't have to call just to thank me" He quipped as he answered the phone. All humor dropped from his face and tone when Mycroft gave him the news. The surveillance team had notified him that John had been in an accident….a very bad accident. He was already at the hospital and they were just bringing John in so he could tell him very little. He asked Greg to collect Sherlock and bring him to the A&E as soon as possible. Lestrade knew that Mycroft had emergency medical proxies for John and Sherlock both but the doctors were going to want John's Alpha there. Knowing how Sherlock could be, both men agreed to keep the news from him until they were all together. Any bonded Alpha could be volatile when their mate was at risk but Sherlock in Alpha mode was in a class all by himself. And this was John at risk! Lestrade listened to the sub-vocal growl Sherlock continued to make and repressed a shudder. He was Not looking forward to this.

For his part, Sherlock remained lost with his thoughts during the ride until the lights of the A&E seemed to rouse him. Focusing a razor-sharp glare on his companion, Sherlock spoke.

"I thought you were taking me to John?"

Lestrade forced himself to breathe normally and continued looking straight ahead as he answered, "I am Sherlock….we'll be there in a minute." By the time Greg parked the car the low noise in Sherlock's throat was a literal growl as he snarled out, "Why….are...we...Here, Lestrade?!"

Greg finally allowed himself to meet Sherlock's eyes, allowed his own worry to show. Sherlock recoiled from what he saw in the older mans eyes; his own going wide as he shook his head violently back and forth.

"John's been in an accident Sherlock," he addressed the man calmly for all the good it would do. "Honestly that's all I know. Mycroft will know more though, he's waiting for us inside."

Sherlock was out of the car before Lestrade could even finish his sentence. There was no mistaking the guttural snarl of an enraged Alpha that echoed off of the surrounding buildings as Sherlock slammed out of the car and rushed into the hospital. Greg raced hot on his heels to try to stave off the worst of the storm coming. The older man hoped fervently that Sherlock's brother was ready.

"**John Watson!**" Sherlock roared when he approached the triage/registration desk.

The clerk was an middle-aged woman with short hair and sensible clothes. Lestrade thought that she gave every appearance of competence and efficiency. She probably was quite good at her job. As she squared her shoulders and readied herself to 'deal' with the man in front of her, Lestrade spared a moment to feel sorry for the woman. She didn't stand any chance with This man. The moment it took Greg to consider this was an eternity to Sherlock whose irritation only increased.

"**John Watson!**" he demanded again. "**Are you deaf or just incompetent?! Where is John Watson?!**"

The clerk flushed a bit by Sherlock's remarks but still confident in her abilities addressed him in her no-nonsense tone, "Sir when you calm down I will be happy to help you. If you do not calm down I can have security…."

Sherlock cut her off abruptly and barely managed to respond humanely as he leaned over the desk into the woman's personal space. "If you can not assist me this instant then I shall find him myself! **JOHN?! MYCROFT?!**" he yelled out knowing his brother was somewhere nearby, while he tried to push his way past the clerk and into the triage area.

Lestrade was doing his best to restrain the man who was surprisingly strong for his size. But Greg had dealt with irate Alphas before and managed to stop him before he got through the doors to the ER. It was necessary but in no way helped Sherlock's disposition.

"**MYCROFT!**"

"I am right here Sherlock." came the clipped voice of his brother.

"**Where is he Mycroft?! Take me to him! Take me to him THIS INSTANT!**" Sherlock practically shouted at his brother who took it all in stride. He understood his brother's anxiety over his mate. But Mycroft was the Lead Alpha in their family and dealt with the situation accordingly.

Mycroft placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, feeling the muscles tense as he pulled against Lestrade's hold on him. He was instantly aware of the nervous tension vibrating throughout Sherlock's thin frame at a fever pitch. Like a rubber band pulled to the breaking point, Sherlock was ready to snap.

"_CALM YOURSELF BROTHER!"_ the voice of a Lead Alpha reached Sherlock's fevered mind when nothing else would. That voice resonated along Sherlock's spine demanding obedience to his Alpha's will.

With a moan that shook his whole body, Sherlock stilled and stopped fighting Lestrade's hold. He lowered his head to Mycroft's shoulder, the smallest of sounds indicating continued distress to his brother. Rubbing his hand soothingly over the back of Sherlock's neck, Mycroft nodded to Greg indicating that he could release Sherlock. Lestrade stood back and noticed the clerk had disappeared as well. Everyone knew better than to interfere with the Alphas unless necessary.

"You can't see him Sherlock. He's in surgery as we speak."

Instantly frantic again Sherlock eyes snapped to his brother's face, "I have to see him…..have to be there! He needs me Mycroft!" When Mycroft did not release the restraining hand on his neck Sherlock bared his teeth and snarled at his brother.

Mycroft reacted quickly with a deep growl and a harsh bite to Sherlock's neck. Sherlock hated it but instinct caused him to whine in submission to his brother's dominance.

The unique timbre of Mycroft's Alpha reached Sherlock again. _"You will calm yourself brother and remain so! You will do John no good if you are sedated by security! Now do as I say! John will need you present when he comes out of surgery!"_

Sherlock calmed further and nudged his nose against the firm jaw in front of him indicating his assent. Mycroft continued to soothe his little brother rubbing one hand over his back and the other at his neck. Lestrade stood watching the two Alphas amazed at the tenderness they showed each other. Any other time the two men barely spoke beyond mutual glares that seemed to speak volumes for them. Oh well, times of need and all that he supposed, brothers will always be brothers.

Sensing his brother had regained control of himself, Mycroft leaned back slightly, "Alright now?"

Sherlock nodded against Mycroft's shoulder and pulled back to speak. "What can you tell me at the moment?"

"Not much I am afraid. A drunk driver crashed into the side of the cab where John and the driver were sitting. The crash pushed the cab over into the other lane where it was hit again along the front and side. The traffic simply couldn't stop in time to avoid the secondary collisions."

Sherlock was growing impatient again with his brother's narrative, "JOHN! What can you tell me about John?!"

Mycroft knew Sherlock would not be appeased until he had all the available facts so, as much as he hated to, he continued. "John didn't have on a seatbelt. The crashes knocked him around quite badly. The driver is dead and John was found unconscious on the floor of the cab with some difficulty breathing. He has fractured ribs and the doctors suspect one may have pierced his lung. There is internal bleeding but the source is unclear which is why he is now in surgery."

"Has John been awake at all?" Sherlock had to know.

"No. He has not regained consciousness since the accident according to the medics and doctors," Mycroft replied.

Sherlock's hands clenched at his sides and he closed his eyes as the voice of his inner torment continued to plague him. 'Oh John…...my John, why did it have to be tonight? Why did everything have to go wrong tonight?!'

Seeking to offer comfort Mycroft lured Sherlock from his gloomy thoughts. "Sherlock you know I have the very best doctors here. They are doing everything in their power for John."

The singular statement reminded Sherlock of the unknown victim in this case. The life of his child at risk as well as that of his mate. He fought the rising tide of emotion to voice what he must. His voice came out softly "John is pregnant. Do….do they know he is pregnant?"

Both of his companions were equally startled by the pronouncement but Mycroft himself recovered quickly. "All of John's records are in the system, including the most recent additions so I am sure the doctors are aware Sherlock. Everything possible is being done to keep your family sound."

For once Sherlock found he was grateful for his brother's steadying presence. "Thank you Mycroft…..for everything."

Mycroft could not quite contain his surprise at the gratitude but covered it quickly. Acknowledging him with a small nod he replied, "Not at all brother. Always happy to be of assistance."

There was nothing more to say at this point and nothing to do but wait.

Lestrade stayed with the two brothers offering whatever support he could to them while he worried himself. He liked John a great deal, more importantly he was a friend. Hearing about the pregnancy had been a bit of a shock as John never mentioned children much. Greg himself was widowed with his own kids and John seemed to enjoy interacting with them. He was actually quite good with the children which had often made Greg wonder. They talked about Greg's own kids or families in general but John never expressed any wish for his own children. Greg assumed with the life they led that it was something John and Sherlock chose not to pursue but never brought the subject up with his friend. John had not even mentioned the suspicion he was pregnant and now here they were….waiting.

Lestrade glanced over at Sherlock who was obsessively pacing from one side of the waiting area to the other. On every other pass he would stop and glare at the doors to the surgery wing, as though willing them to open, before resuming his circuit across the room again.

Mycroft sat silently keeping a watchful eye on his brother in the event his forced calm reached its limit.

The tense silence finally got to Greg who glanced at Mycroft before speaking, "Did you know?"

Mycroft seemed to drag his gaze away from Sherlock to focus on the inspector for a long moment. Lestrade was familiar with this kind of intensity from a Holmes. Assessing is how he referred to it, so he waited silently for the other man to speak. Once Mycroft appeared to decide whatever he needed to know, he spoke.

"No, not until Sherlock told us. Apparently John had just confirmed the pregnancy today."

"Bloody Hell! Can today get any more bollocksed up?!" Greg exclaimed. At the sharply raised eyebrow, Greg explained about the botched bonding anniversary tonight.

Mycroft's gaze turned pensive as understanding dawned, "Ah...I see."

"How do you think he will take it?" Greg wondered aloud. "I mean, if the baby is lost?"

Both men returned to watching the pacing man in front of them for a few moments before Mycroft spoke again.

"I have no idea. Sherlock has never expressed a desire for children so this is an area in which I can not make suppositions. No...I would be much more concerned if, heaven forbid, we lost John. I have every reason to believe that losing John would result in losing Sherlock as well. I truthfully don't think he could carry on without him…..not anymore."

Greg could only nod his agreement. So they continued to wait….and pray.

"Mister Holmes?"

The question came from a very tired looking doctor with a serious face. Sherlock instantly alert and deducing everything he possibly could in his search for the answers he required. He found his emotional involvement, in this case, only hindered his deductions so he had to wait on the doctor's words. Sherlock felt rather than saw the firm hand of his brother on his shoulder. Glancing to the man now standing beside him, Sherlock did not see the warning he expected. He saw only support. Mycroft offering his strength and his presence as a buffer to help Sherlock through this if needed. He returned Sherlock's gaze with a small smile and a nod of encouragement. At the same time Sherlock sensed Lestrade's reassuring bulk on his other side. Not touching but lending his support as well. The surge of emotion and gratitude for the comfort of his brother and friend threatened to overwhelm Sherlock but it gave him a measure of calm just the same as he turned to face the doctor once more.

**Author's Note: ** Thank you So Much to all who have given my first story a read, favorite, follow, or review! It has been so gratifying and fun to hear from you all! Please rest assured the angst will not continue forever, but at least another chapter. :) Special Thanks to the Illustrious Laurie Whitlock for her editing advice! And to "They Who Shall Not Be Named" for all the reads, advice, and encouragement to just go ahead and DO THIS...My Gratitude knows No Bounds! :-D I suppose I forgot the usual "I don't own any of these characters, etc.", but you guys all know I am just playing in this universe with the rest of you! ;) Sorry this chapter ends rather abruptly but I had to do it or it would have simply been a Huge chapter! Always happy to have your comments and reviews to help me along. Hope you continue to follow and enjoy! With Sincerest gratitude, Cynthia!


	4. Chapter 4

"You are Doctor Watson's Alpha I presume?"

"Obviously!" Sherlock barked at the doctor before him.

Unfazed by the blatant rudeness, the weary man continued, "I am Doctor Ashford. Doctor Watson is out of surgery and stable for the moment. You can see him in just a bit." He paused and his eyebrows furrowed as he gathered his words.

"Tell me!" Sherlock snapped again. "I have no patience for coddling, nor do I expect any, just tell me what I need to know!"

"And please be specific Doctor Ashford," added Mycroft. "You will find Sherlock appreciates precise information and things will go much more smoothly if that is what he is given."

Doctor Ashford looked back and forth between the brothers for a moment before nodding briskly in acceptance. "Doctor Watson has a severe concussion and has yet to regain consciousness since the accident. However, there is no acute brain injury or swelling of the brain so we do expect him to wake given a little time. We will continue to watch his neurological status closely in the meantime."

With no response from the men at this information, he took a breath and continued. " We were correct about the displaced rib fractures but the lungs are fine. One of the displaced ribs nicked the edge of the liver causing a great deal of internal bleeding which required surgical intervention to stop. Loss of blood affected the amount of circulating oxygen in Doctor Watson's system which resulted in the breathing problems we saw earlier. We will be keeping him on supplemental oxygen during his recovery. A blood transfusion is in progress to replace some of the blood loss as well as fluids to replace lost volume and nutrients for the time being. We will reassess later in the morning to see if one transfusion is effective or if more blood will be required. Doctor Watson will stay in intensive care for a few days but as I said he is stable at the moment. The ribs have been reset and secured as much as possible but healing will take several weeks. Right now the rest is up to Doctor Watson himself." He paused a moment to let this new information sink in before proceeding, "Do you have any questions for me at this point Mister Holmes?"

Sherlock had absorbed the doctor's information in silence but it took a moment for him to realize that the man seemed finished with his catalog of John's condition and treatment. Then less than a moment to realize what had been left out of the monologue and Sherlock sucked in a sudden deep breath as he forced himself to speak.

"And what….what about the…..child?" Sherlock saw the answer in the doctor's face before he even finished the sentence.

"I am sorry Mister Holmes. The miscarriage was already in progress when your mate arrived at the hospital. It was another factor that contributed to the large amount of blood loss. There was nothing we could do to stop it."

Sherlock simply froze at the doctor's words. It was all just too much to process any longer. In the span of only hours he had hurt his mate, learned he was to be a father, then nearly lost his mate and had lost the child he was to have. He was on the verge of shutting down entirely just to cope with overload of information, emotion, and his own thoughts. The two men at his side were the only thing keeping him grounded in the here and now.

Once again Mycroft was invaluable at sensing his brother's need and interceded on his behalf. Squeezing Sherlock's shoulder in reassurance he addressed the doctor. "Thank you for the information Doctor. Will you kindly let us know when Sherlock can see John? I do not think he will be at all reassured until then."

"Oh..yes. Yes, of course. I will have the nurse send for you as soon as he is out of recovery and in his room." Glancing again at Sherlock, who had remained completely silent and lost in his thoughts, the man offered what he hoped might help. "Mister Holmes….if it will be of any comfort to you, Doctor Johnson came in himself to examine your mate and see to the miscarriage. He says Doctor Watson will still be able to conceive….should you…want…..." He trailed off when Sherlock's eyes met his in silence.

Sherlock had heard the man and recognized the name of John's personal doctor but he had no reply to give to the information the doctor offered. Only the barest tilt of his head acknowledged the man's words.

With a tight smile, that was somehow meant as encouraging, and a sharp nod Doctor Ashford left them alone.

Both Mycroft and Greg mourned the loss but neither knew what to say to Sherlock in light of the news, and so just stood, silent support for a few moments. Until once again, Mycroft provided the impetus to move everyone forward.

"Well I shall go and see about arrangements for you to stay with John. Not that it will be a problem as the presence of the bonded partner normally helps speed healing."

Sherlock seemed to snap out of his thoughts at last and nodded. "Yes….thank you again Mycroft. I….I don't think I will be able to leave John's side until he's awake. Or even then for that matter."

Mycroft slipped off to work his usual magic leaving Lestrade to keep an eye on Sherlock. Not that he seemed to need it at the moment, even the Alpha seemed subdued by the news. "Well...I am glad that John is stable and should recover fairly soon," Greg offered to his friend unsure if he would even get a reply.

After a long moment Sherlock replied, "Yes…..yes...that's-That is a good thing." He still stood glued to the spot gazing hungrily at the doors to the ward awaiting the nurse that would take him to John.

"Is there anything I can do for you Sherlock? Do you need me to get anything from the flat for you? I will have to check in with the team but then I can run by the flat. You could have Mrs. Hudson gather up a few things and I would be happy to run them back here for you. Just….well….I mean...just, you know I would do anything I possibly could to help you and John. So you just say the word okay?!" Greg just wanted desperately to be of help to his two friends and there was very little he could do to help either of them.

"Thank you Greg. You really are a good friend. But I know you are exhausted too. We have **all** had a long night and there is nothing I need that can't wait until tomorrow. Go get some sleep. I will be fine."

Mycroft had returned by this point so Lestrade felt safe leaving Sherlock. "Okay then, I'm off. But I will check in on John tomorrow but text me if there are any changes or anything you need me to bring….Please?!"

Sherlock merely gave him a nod and resumed his wait in silence.

Mycroft extended his hand and smiled a genuine smile at Greg, "Thank you Detective Inspector for being here for Sherlock, and for staying. I know it helped, whether he will ever admit it or not is another story." Mycroft noted a small tremor from Lestrade when he took his hand but made no comment. He met Greg's warm, chocolate-brown eyes with his own and they spoke of a long history of looking after this man they both cared about.

Greg shook Mycroft's hand and smiled in return, "You know thanks are not necessary. Apparently I signed on for this years ago! What else would I do now?"

Even in this situation, Mycroft found himself chuckling softly back, "Indeed Gregory. Indeed! But thank you nevertheless."

Greg nodded in acknowledgement then left them alone in the waiting area. Mycroft gazing after the inspector for a moment before returning his attention to Sherlock. Impatience was catching up to his brother again as he waited to see John. His hands alternated between clenching into fists at his side and tapping in agitation against his thighs while he continued to stare at the doors to the ward. Despite their familial bond and matched intellect, Mycroft could not begin to imagine what was going through Sherlock's mind now. He certainly wouldn't pretend to fathom his brother's emotional state. He had never shared a bond and the intimacies it implied himself so he had no idea what Sherlock was experiencing. Still he tried to offer a comfort to the man suffering silently in front of him.

"I am sorry brother. If there was anything I could….." the words died in his throat as Sherlock focused his stony gaze on him. Mycroft could say nothing more in the face of the raw emotion in his brother's eyes.

Sherlock understood that Mycroft wanted to help but he had no words for his brother. No way to communicate his thoughts now; the entire life he had built with John seemed in chaos, no not even their means of silent communication worked for this.

Their stalemate ended as the doors opened and a nurse appeared. "Mister Holmes? I can take you through now."

Sherlock wasted no time following her and Mycroft moved to join him. The young nurse stopped him. "I'm sorry sir. We only allow one visitor with the critical patients, preferably their mates."

Mycroft fully understood the policies but in this particular instance he intended to use his _full _authority as the British government and as Lead Alpha for their family. The Alpha rang strong once more as he spoke, "I assure you I will not disturb John, however, I will see my brother settled before I leave."

The nurse, obviously a beta narrowed her eyes as she bristled against his words. Still she nodded her head sharply and turned to lead them both to John's room. Sherlock still did not speak but his hand sought out his brother, fingers closing around Mycroft's forearm and giving a squeeze in thanks. He honestly wasn't sure if he could deal with John's condition alone.

The nurse stopped them outside of a door. "The doctor has apprised you of Doctor Watson's condition?" Both men merely nodded. "We have no way of knowing when he will start to wake. With bonded mates, familiar scents and voices often help. Talk to him if you like, let him know you are here." Smiling encouragingly at Sherlock she opened the door and let them enter.

Even prepared as he was Sherlock couldn't help the deep breath he took when he saw John at last. It seemed like an eternity since he had seen his mate. Sherlock was struck by how small John...**His** John, looked lying in the hospital bed. Despite his stature, Sherlock never actually thought of John as small in person. Strength, passion and the enormity of his heart were what was always at the forefront of Sherlock's mind when he thought of John. Now all he saw was his injured mate in need of comfort and healing. The mate he was to care for and protect above all else. John lying there in silence was like an accusation of Sherlock's failure again tonight and he shook himself to rid his mind of the thought.

The lights in the room were kept dim and the monitors chimed softly beside the bed. An effort to help the patient sleep and aid healing Sherlock supposed. Even in the low light Sherlock could see how pale John was, all the radiance that was simply John being alive and happy drained away leaving only a ghostly pallor. His breathing still seemed somewhat shallow and quick despite the oxygen tubing in his nostrils but Sherlock knew pain was a contributing factor as well. The paleness of John's face was broken by numerous scrapes and cuts from the broken glass of the car window. Sherlock eyed the IV tubing carrying fresh red blood and fluids to John and took in the vital signs displayed on the monitor. His gaze traced the edge of bruises visible along the edge of the hospital gown and disappearing beneath where he knew they were larger and spread across John's entire torso. He only spared a second's glance further down the bed, not wanting to dwell on those thoughts at the moment, before returning to John's face.

Sherlock didn't even realize he hadn't moved from the doorway during his entire exam until Mycroft softly cleared his throat behind him and coaxed, "I am confident John would prefer your presence closer to him brother."

The reminder was the only impetus Sherlock needed and he reached John's side in only a couple of steps. A metal chair with a poorly cushioned seat was already beside the bed. Sherlock sank into the chair and pulled it as close to the bedside as he could. Taking John's left hand within his own, he lightly brushed his right hand through the coarse hair at John's temple. "John…?" There was no response of course, still Sherlock leaned forward until he could touch his lips to John's forehead. Closing his eyes and leaning his head against John's he whispered into his ear again, "John...I am here John….I'm here..." With another soft kiss, Sherlock sat back in the chair still clasping John's hand in his...and prepared to wait.

Mycroft still stood just inside the doorway observing Sherlock and John. He so often found he envied his brother's relationship with John but not at this moment. There was a cot with pillows and blankets on one side of the room for the patient's significant other but Mycroft doubted Sherlock would even leave the chair where he sat. As the silence dragged on Mycroft thought perhaps he should leave.

"Is there anything else you need brother?" Mycroft questioned at last.

"No….I only need John," was the reply he received.

The depth of emotion in that simple statement made Mycroft's own heart ache in a way few could ever manage. Still he pressed on, "Will you be alright?" A simple question voiced, but between the two of them, different questions are actually heard. "Can you cope on your own tonight?" "Do you need me?"

Sherlock remained silent staring at John and rubbing his thumb across the top of his hand. This went on so long that Mycroft was certain Sherlock had merely withdrawn to his mind palace and would not answer. Turning to leave Mycroft at last heard a reply so soft he might have missed it.

"I don't know." Sherlock's countenance remained unchanged and he did not even look at Mycroft. This did not prevent his brother from observing the subtle quiver of Sherlock's bottom lip nor the slow tear rolling freely down his cheek. His need was clear and Mycroft did not hesitate to meet it.

"I will stay Sherlock," is what was spoken. "For as long as you need me," was heard.

Sherlock did not reply but his entire body seemed to sigh and relax into the chair. Mycroft sent off a quick text to Anthea to inform her of the situation and request a few items be sent along to the hospital. Then, knowing Sherlock would have no intentions of sleeping, he shrugged off his jacket, toed off his shoes, and attempted to make himself as comfortable as he could on the cot as he endeavored to sleep.

Sherlock maintained his vigil throughout the night, moving grudgingly as needed for the nurses to do their work. Suppressing his growls when John moaned in pain at any motion because he knew it couldn't be helped with the rib fractures. He would quickly return to John's side when they finished and reclaim his hand. While Mycroft slept, he continued to brush his fingers along John's temple or cheek following fingers with gentle kisses but he remained silent after first arriving. But as dawn began to break without any sign of John waking, Sherlock's composure began to crack. Pressing his lips to John's ear he finally let the words come.

"I'm sorry John! I'm so very sorry! I'm sorry I forgot, that I failed you...failed as the mate you deserve and drove you away! This is all my fault! I practically drove you into that cab! If it wasn't for me you would have been home safe….you and our child. Our child is lost because of me! I can't lose you as well John!" Actually voicing the loss out loud seemed to break the last reserve of Sherlock's own despair and the tears flowed hot and free. "You have to wake up for me John….you know I don't function without you…..not anymore! I have never deserved you John but you have to wake up and let me start making this up to you! Even if it's impossible, you have to let me try! I love you John! You are the only one...you are everything to me! Please….just please for me….wake up…..come back to me?!" There continued to be no reply from John but Sherlock continued uttering apologies and pleas through the tears until exhausted himself as well.

When Mycroft woke it was to find Sherlock asleep with his head on John's left shoulder over the reassuring sound of a beating heart, dried tears on his cheeks and their left hands still twined together.

They would wait another twenty-four hours before John wakes.


	5. Chapter 5

Awareness came slowly like the trickle of molasses from a jar. This alone was all John needed to know something was wrong. Through years of military training he was programmed to wake quickly and completely. These days whether it was the alarm, a nightmare, or Sherlock he still woke swiftly. So it was bothersome that he could not seem to do so now.

He could hear sounds. Chimes and tones in the darkness enveloping him, muffled and garbled voices moving closer and further away but couldn't make out any words. No clues found that way. Gradually he became aware of the smells around him. The aroma of antiseptics, alcohol, and betadine were predominant with a faint underlying hint of blood. The puff of oxygen in his nostrils the last clue for John.

Hospital. But how and why he couldn't seem to recall. Another scent began to override all others in the room, a scent very close at hand. The scent reminiscent of tea and cigarettes, cinnamon and wool, chemicals and the London mist, a scent John knew intimately and craved desperately now for the comfort it offered…..Sherlock.

Sensation returned next as John became aware of the cool sheets and pillows beneath him and the coarse blanket under his fingers covering his lower body. The occasional brush of cool fingers or soft lips against his forehead and temple; soft curls against his jaw and the pressure of a head against his right shoulder. Sherlock again, in his mental landscape John smiled at the knowledge. He also felt the tight pull of a dressing or something around his torso and the dull itch of wounds healing on his face, arms, even abdomen. What had happened to him? With the return of sensation came the awareness of pain and an undefined sense of emptiness. His head was one big throbbing ache and he hurt all over. Briefly attempting to take a deeper breath shot sharp pain across his chest. Concussion and fractured ribs his mind supplied? Beating by criminals? Kidnapping? What was it this time?

John was unaware that his attempts at unconscious self assessment had caused him to moan softly when the ribs made their status known. But he could just as well have screamed for the close eye Sherlock was keeping on him.

"John…?"

John struggled to reply but couldn't get his words out, his lips dry and tongue thick with disuse. "Mmm…..Shrrr…"

"I'm here John! I'm right here!"

A cool palm cupped John's face and he hummed at the touch of a thumb softly crossing his lips.

"Please wake up love….please….for me?!"

Sherlock's voice sounded soft…..so very tired and uncertain. John wondered how long he had been out and concentrated on opening his heavy eyelids. At least the lighting in the room was dim. After blinking his eyes a few to times to clear his hazy vision, John was at last able to focus on Sherlock. John would never be a master of deduction but one look at Sherlock was all he needed to confirm the seriousness of his own condition. Sherlock's eyes were red and puffy with evidence of dried tears and dark circles underneath from not sleeping. His face was paler than John had ever seen it unless the man himself was in the hospital. His hair unkempt and in a riotous mess from constantly running his hands through it and his suit was hopelessly wrinkled. He probably hasn't changed or taken care of himself at all thought John. John had yet to speak merely taking in Sherlock and his appearance as well as comforting himself with his presence.

But John's silence only added to Sherlock's nerves as he prompted again, "John….what is it love? I'm here." Seeing John licking at his dry lips, Sherlock quickly seized on an action he could do for John. "Do you need a drink?" At John's still silent nod he readily offered the cup and straw, "Sip slowly now."

John drank deeply, the cool water feeling refreshing on his mouth and lips. Sensing the fear and worry radiating from his mate, John offered what little reassurance he could as he managed a small smile and whispered, "Missed you love."

Relief instantly spread across Sherlock's face and the side of his mouth quirked up in response to the smile of his cheeky mate. Cupping John's face in both hands, Sherlock placed a soft kiss on his lips before replying. "Not nearly as much as I have missed you my love."

About then John finally noticed Mycroft standing behind Sherlock watching them both with concern. He was shocked to say the least to see Mycroft in less than pristine condition himself. Not nearly as rumpled as Sherlock but still a bit mussed and tired looking. John noticed the used cot off to the side. Knowing full well Sherlock probably barely slept or left his side he guessed Mycroft had stayed as well. Shit! This was serious! Was he dying for fuck's sake?!

Hoping to ease the tension in the room John greeted Mycroft with a grin, "Serious as all that was it? Required intervention by the British Government himself did I?"

"Quite so John," Mycroft replied with a small smile in return.

John had attempted to sit up a bit more and straighten himself in the bed as he spoke but stopped short at the sharp pain in his side. The pain cut right through his attempts at levity in the situation causing John to blurt out, "Damn that hurts! What the bloody hell happened to me this time?!"

Sherlock, who was in the process of pressing John's shoulder back into the mattress to prevent him from moving again, looked sharply at Mycroft then back to John.

"You don't remember," he asked cautiously. John shook his head.

"What is the last thing you do remember John?" Sherlock waited anxiously for the answer.

John found himself trying to recall…...the last thing he remembered. There was a black fog in his mind, as if there was something there but hidden and only wisps of memory escaped. Finally John seized on a memory. "We were chasing a killer! The one who broke in and killed his lover and the guy he found him with," John looked expectantly to Sherlock and Mycroft.

"Anything else John," Sherlock asked looking even more cautious than before. John retraced his thoughts again. Coming up with the same last memory, he merely shook his head at Sherlock.

"Mycroft would you please alert John's doctor that he's awake and ask him to come in?" Sherlock had his stoic mask on now. That face that John hated because it meant Sherlock didn't want John to know what he was thinking or feeling.

"Certainly brother" Mycroft replied. Concern still etched on his face as well when he exited the room.

John absolutely hated being left out of the loop, especially with the Holmes. "What?! What is it Sherlock?! What is so wrong to make you look worried again?"

Instantly aware of his mate's increasing anxiety but doubting his answer would soothe him much, Sherlock replied in his perfunctory manner, "That chase was last week John. There was an accident. You've been unconscious here for over thirty-six hours with a concussion. Perhaps this is normal but your doctor will have to make that assessment."

John suspected Sherlock had left out some details but his thoughts were already chasing each other around in his head so he did not pursue it. Last week….he couldn't remember a whole week. Sherlock said he had been unconscious for thirty-six hours but that was all. That left five and a half days unaccounted for. John was troubled by the realization but reassured at the same time. He knew himself, he knew Sherlock and Mycroft, he knew where he lived and what work he did, so not complete amnesia then. John had a pretty good guess that this was a temporary form of amnesia brought on by the accident and concussion. Of course the doctor would want to run some tests and such but John would do the same himself. He actually found himself much calmer after making his way through his thoughts. When he focused on the world again he found Mycroft had returned and a doctor was entering the room.

The doctor nodded at John in greeting, "Doctor Watson. I am Doctor Ashford, the lead doctor on your case. I supervised your surgery. Mister Holmes, the elder, informs me that you seem to have some problems with recent memory?"

John was only a bit surprised that he had surgery. He was more interested in the fact of Sherlock not mentioning it. Doctor Ashford was a doctor John had not met before in his work or various admissions, still he seemed competent enough. John nodded to the doctor, "Yes. Apparently. The last memory I can recall is from last week according to Sherlock."

"I see. Well let's get your exam over and then we will see about a CT scan to check the status of that concussion and then go from there. Do you wish the gentleman to step out?"

John saw Sherlock bristle out of the corner of his eye but he understood that Doctor Ashford was referring to Mycroft. No doctor would ever ask a bonded Alpha to leave their mate during an exam. John was certain Mycroft had stayed for Sherlock's benefit while John was out and he knew how Sherlock could get when he was hurt. Sherlock hated being driven by hormones and primal instinct feeling that it went against his logic and intellect. But when it came to John, he was powerless to stop the response of mate to mate and all it entailed.

"No Doctor it is fine if he stays. He already knows everything about me anyway." John couldn't resist winking at Mycroft on the last, taking a small dig at his constant surveillance of them, even in their home.

Sherlock cut his eyes to Mycroft with a smirk on his own face. While Mycroft himself harrumphfed in response to the dig but otherwise took it with good humor.

Doctor Ashford got down to his exam, shining a penlight in John's eyes to check the dilation. Ears, nose, mouth followed. Listening to John's heart was easy but when John had to take a deep breath so the doctor could check his lungs he gasped and had to stop.

"Yes those ribs are going to be a while healing. You had two displaced fractured ribs Doctor Watson. One knicked your liver and required the surgery and blood transfusion you received. You know how important it will be to keep taking those deep breaths as often as you can manage."

John only nodded as the exam continued. The doctor checked his dressings and did and external exam of his ribs and torso, causing John to suck in a sudden breath from the pain and Sherlock to growl softly at the doctor. Doctor Ashford was no fool and quickly moved on with the exam, listening to John's abdomen. Doctor Ashford had to manually feel the organs in John's abdomen as well and he tried to do so carefully aware of the many bruises and the 'other' surgery.

Sherlock's growl only got louder when he pressed deep into John's lower abdomen causing John to let out a loud groan of pain. Doctor Ashford's eyes cut to Sherlock as he spoke to John, "Yes…..there was….some extensive bruising from the accident and surgery. That's going to take a while as well"

Sherlock merely blinked in understanding.

John looked at both of them and the distinct feeling that something was being kept from him did not ease. Even Mycroft was wearing his most innocent expression, which was not terribly innocent at all. His response was direct.

"May I be allowed to see my chart Doctor Ashford?"

Sherlock looked almost panicked for a moment until Doctor Ashford answered promptly.

"No. I'm sorry Doctor Watson, normally I would gladly allow a fellow physician to see his own chart. But in your current condition, there are things….perhaps traumatising to read without your memory intact. So I can not in good conscience allow you to see it at this time. Now I will go see about your pain medicine and ordering that CT scan." And with that he left.

John glared from Sherlock to Mycroft and then back again but said nothing. He could understand what the doctor was saying and would probably do the same in his shoes. It was just so damned bloody annoying! They both knew how much he hated not knowing what was going on. And this time it was his own fucking body they were talking about!

Just then a knock sounded and Lestrade stuck his head in, "I was just coming to check in guys." Seeing John he brightened instantly, "Hello mate! Glad to see you awake at last! Should I even ask how you are feeling?"

John couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's enthusiasm, even if he had to clutch his side as he did so. "Ow,ow,ow…..good to see you too Greg. I feel a bit like shit and I can't remember the past week but hey...I'm alive right?!" John winked at Greg as he spoke.

Greg glanced at Mycroft and Sherlock as he caught up with the sentence. "You can't remember the past week?"

John snapped.

"NO! And I would appreciate it if you would all stop with the cryptic looks because Obviously something happened that I can't remember yet and you guys are Pissing Me Off!" John attempted to take a deep calming breath but still couldn't manage without pain. Instead he closed his eyes and breathed normally.

The three other men in the room look chagrined and remained quiet.

After a few moments John spoke up, "I'm sorry Greg. I shouldn't have jumped you like that. You just got here and it is good of you to check on me. Just not quite myself yet."

"Oh don't mention it John. We all have had our bad days, yeah." Greg replied genially.

Everyone remained quiet until Doctor Ashford came in again. "Doctor Watson we will do your scan within the hour. The nurse will bring you something for pain shortly to make the movement and scan more tolerable for you."

"Thanks Doctor Ashford. Will I get to eat after that? I'm feeling a bit famished actually," John asked as he rubbed his hand over his grumbling stomach. He didn't notice Sherlock visibly pale and then look a bit green at the action.

"Certainly, Doctor. After the scan you may eat whatever you feel like, though do try to keep it healthy. It will take some days to build your blood volume back to normal and you need plenty of vitamins and fluids to help. I will see you as soon as I can after the scan is complete." And with that he left again.

Greg departed soon after taking note of anything John or Sherlock needed from the flat and promising to bring it back by this evening and to give Ms. Hudson the news that John was awake. She had been so worried after all. Mycroft walked Greg out to give Sherlock and John a little time alone before the procedure.

John was still annoyed at the secrets but understood everyone thought it was best in his condition. Besides he could never stay mad at Sherlock for long, and he wanted comfort from his mate now. Gingerly scooting himself over in the bed, John patted the space on his right side, "Come here love, I want you close."

Sherlock looked sceptical and concerned at the same time, "I really probably shouldn't…..your ribs…"

"We'll be careful….please love?"

John's plea was the only incentive Sherlock needed. Moving quickly he lowered himself down beside John, easing his arm around John's shoulders while he settled his head on Sherlock's chest. John listened to Sherlock's heart beat strong and steady under his ear and sighed contentedly. Sherlock too seemed to sigh in relief, his body molding around John's in the tiny bed. John was still tired and drowsy so it was no surprise that he drifted off just as he was. Sherlock having barely slept for days, held John close in his arms and rested his own head atop the sandy one on his shoulder and slept.

Mycroft had returned to this scene but merely sat quietly texting Anthea, keeping abreast of current news and developments. The nurse found them like that when she brought John's medicine. She didn't even disturb them. Quietly giving John's medication through his IV line she left them resting quietly until time for the exam. John for his part barely grumbled when Sherlock had to ease himself out of the bed so they could take John down for the scan; he just continued to doze thanks to the drug in his system. The nurse assured Sherlock that John would sleep through the scan and probably for a while afterwards. Sherlock merely nodded as he followed her with John to the scan. He still wasn't about to leave John alone and no one questioned him about it either.

The exam only took half an hour and John did indeed continue sleeping until dinner time, awaking a bit groggy when Doctor Ashford made his evening rounds.

"Well your scan looks good. No residual damage or blood clots present. It really does look like this is just temporary amnesia induced by trauma. The events of the past week may trickle back into conscious memory over the next few days or they may come rushing back all at once. I can't really say what is most likely for you."

This only confirmed what John suspected himself but it was good to have corroboration. "Thank you Doctor Ashford for your frankness. I appreciate it." Just then John's stomach gave a growl as his supper arrived.

Doctor Ashford laughed, "Ready for that meal now are you? Well you are welcome Doctor Watson. Enjoy your food. I'll see you in the morning." With another smile and a wave he was gone again.

John sighed happily as he dug into his hospital meal. It certainly wasn't fine dining but he was hungry. He was already finished with the tray when Lestrade came by with their things from home. While the boys were both grateful for the things they needed, John was ecstatic when Greg produced a surprise from Ms. Hudson. A box packed with two meat pies, John's favorite biscuits, and a thermos of tea from home. Sherlock had barely eaten either, merely sitting at the bedside while John ate the hospital meal. Now John insisted he eat something pushing one of the pies at him and a cup of tea, adding sugar from his hospital packet to the cup for Sherlock. They continued eating happily, chatting around the gaps in John's memory and filling Greg in on the scan results. He couldn't stay long as he had to get back to some paperwork at the Yard but promised to check in again tomorrow. Both men gave him thanks for the care package and waved him off. Mycroft also took his leave with Greg, stepping out to get some dinner for himself once he'd assured himself that Sherlock would be alright. Left alone in peace and relative quiet, they were on the last cups of tea and nibbling the last biscuits when the new evening shift nurse came in.

"Mister Holmes? There is a doctor out here who would like to speak to you."

John confused by this spoke up, "Are you sure he didn't want to see me?"

"No Sir. He specifically asked for Mister Holmes."

Sherlock merely shrugged and rose to leave. Leaning down he gave John a quick kiss, "I'll just be outside and I'll be right back."

John smiled after him and then resumed nibbling on a biscuit still wondering what that was about. He could hear muffled voices outside and after a moment it dawned on him that his nurse had left the door open. There was a four-inch gap and if John just slid over a bit in the bed…..OW! Damn his ribs! John continued moving but a bit more slowly until finally he could lean his head just to the side and see clearly out of the door. He could see Sherlock talking with someone but his back was to John and blocking the person. John huffed in annoyance again but waited patiently, knowing Sherlock's nervous habits. Eventually Sherlock moved and John could see….Doctor Johnson? Doctor Johnson was his personal doctor. Why would he be here talking to Sherlock and not him? Maybe he just wanted to check on him? That was nice considering John really only saw him for physicals and his Omega care... Oh.

John winced at a sudden pain in his head and swore there were fireworks going off in his skull. Overwhelmed, a rush of thoughts and images played across John's mind coming faster and faster until they stopped abruptly. Sherlock, anniversary, Doctor Johnson, appointment, fight, cab, tears, bright lights, car horns, sirens, BABY! John had started to breathe heavily through his nose as the memories rushed back into being in his mind. By the time it stopped he was practically hyperventilating and his heart rate had increased sharply setting off the alarms on his monitors. John just continued staring at Sherlock and Doctor Johnson in the hallway still talking. He knew. He knew what that sense of emptiness was. He knew why they wouldn't tell him what had happened. He knew he lost the baby because of the accident. John was starting to see spots in his vision from hyperventilating but seemed frozen in this state.

Sherlock instantly averted his attention from Doctor Johnson when the nurses hurried into the room to check on John and the alarms. John knew he was on the verge of passing out...shock perhaps, but he kept his eyes focused on Sherlock. Sherlock ran back to the room behind the nurses but stopped in the doorway to stay out of their way as they tried to calm John and assess him at the same time.

Pinned in place by John's piercing stare, Sherlock braced himself with hands on either side of the door-frame . He took in the frantic breathing and higher heart rate but he could tell there was something else going on. He locked eyes with John once more.

"I remember," John whispered in a rush…..then his world went black again.


	6. Chapter 6

Mycroft returned from dinner to find John asleep again, which was expected in his condition. He was surprised however by Sherlock. Once again he sat sentry at the bedside but not as relaxed as Mycroft expected now that John had awoke. Sherlock was leaning forward, eyes only for John, elbows resting on his knees. Mycroft watched quietly as Sherlock leaned back in the chair dropping his left hand to his lap as his right rose to rub across his upper lip absent-mindedly. After a moment Sherlock seemed to shake himself, scrubbing his hand through his hair with a sigh before letting it drop to his lap as well. Mycroft looked from his brother to John, reaching his conclusion in seconds.

"I have missed something brother."

Sherlock started at the voice, truly not having noticed Mycroft's return. Sherlock nodded and spoke softly, to not risk waking John, as he replied. "John's memory seems to have returned."

Mycroft's only response was to raise an eyebrow in further question, shouldn't this be a good thing.

"If I judge correctly the memories all returned at once triggering a panic attack. He passed out but they still had to give him a mild sedative to get his heart rate and breathing back down to normal."

Mycroft instantly understood Sherlock's own anxiety. "He remembers everything then….the child?"

Sherlock twitched when Mycroft mentioned the child but answered readily. "I believe he remembers everything up to and including the accident. I do not know if he realized about the child or not. And….I….if not Mycroft then I have no idea how to tell him. I don't know what to say!"

Mycroft didn't have an easy answer but offered his support as he always did, the nest way he could. "You and John shall figure it out Sherlock….together. You always do." He smiled encouragingly at his brother who continued to stare at his sleeping mate.

Now that the crisis was past, his Omega safe, and Sherlock's Alpha calmed, Mycroft took the risk of broaching the subject he never thought he might do with his younger brother.

"Was the child planned Sherlock?"

Sherlock stiffened noticeably at the question but answered after only a moment. "No. I had no idea even until I found the report that night." "That night…." he mumbled to himself, thoughts straying once more to the disastrous evening that led them here.

Mycroft pressed on to the more crucial question, "And when you knew brother, did you want the child then?"

Sherlock tilted his head down, took a deep breath and rubbed his hands along his thighs as he gathered his words. "I….I have never wanted or needed children….never even imagined the possibility of them _sometime_." Another deep breath and Sherlock turned his face to meet Mycroft's steady gaze. Eyes burning with a passion rarely seen by his big brother, he continued. "But I never imagined John either! My John, my mate, my….._everything_ Mycroft! When I knew he carried our child, _**Our**_ _**child**_…...I….I _**wanted**_! I wanted the child so desperately! And despite everything that had gone wrong that night, I was so very happy. I allowed…..I let myself…..Oh Brother, I _**Dreamed**_! I dared to dream of the child and John and the future! And now it's gone and I don't know how to face John?! We hadn't even talked about it and now it's gone!" A single tear rolled down a pale cheek from full eyes as Sherlock held his hand over his mouth as if to stifle any sobs that threatened to escape.

This was not the out of control Sherlock of two nights ago and any offer of physical comfort would only be embarrassing and unwelcome to him now. Aware that his brother only required time, Mycroft remained silent. A wipe of his eyes and a clearing of his throat and Sherlock was his usual self once more, back to watching John sleep. Mycroft allowed another few moments of silence before speaking again.

"It is not _entirely_ gone brother. You still have John, you both still have a future. Whether there is a child or not will depend on John's health, as well as both of you and what you want or decide. Just **talk **to John, Sherlock. I realize it is difficult for but you will have to let him know how you feel in this matter. It will be hard to get past this episode in your lives, I imagine, but surely not any more challenging than getting through your _absence_. You both made it through that and came together stronger than ever, bonded and mated even. It doesn't seem like it now but you will both make it through this. The two of you….as always."

Sherlock listened to his brother without comment but took every word to heart, finally giving Mycroft a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement when he had finished.

Mycroft allowed himself to enjoy the quiet accord between them for just a moment longer but felt his presence would be a hindrance when John woke again. "If I am not mistaken, I do not think you require the services of your Alpha any longer. And I think John will prefer privacy when he wakes."

Sherlock smiled, the joke a constant between the brothers, "You are never mistaken Mycroft. But yes, I shall be fine and yes, we probably should be alone now."

Mycroft gathered up the few things he had in the room. Turning to leave he spoke once more, "Sherlock….take care of John. More than you ever have before, let him know how much **He** matters."

Sherlock nodded solemnly. "I promise Mycroft that I will do just that. Thank you once more….for so much...I…." Sherlock hesitated but Mycroft understood perfectly.

"You're welcome brother, always. Now I shall go and assure the doctors are prepared to expedite John's release as soon as he feels able. Otherwise I know the both of you will be hell to live with." With a warm and genuine smile he departed leaving them alone in the room.

Sherlock reached out for the hand in front of him, clasping it firmly between his own two hands he waited.

John woke abruptly this time when the outside world chose to encroach on their quiet haven. The bright flash of lightning accompanied by a loud clap of thunder jerking him suddenly awake. This followed swiftly by the even ruder stab of pain in his side. Sherlock had reacted quickly and already was easing John back onto the pillows as he groaned against the pain.

"I'll ring the nurse for your pain medicine." Sherlock moved for the call button but John's hand around his wrist quickly stopped him.

"No...I've been sedated enough for a bit. I need to be awake and I can manage the pain for now. Please Sherlock?" John pled.

"But I should….you need…."

"I promise I will take it when I can't manage anymore Sherlock. Can we just….sit awhile again...together?" John once more patted the bed beside him. Sherlock only hesitated a moment before easing himself down and wrapping his arms protectively around John. They lay entwined in silence, John for one enjoying it while he could because he knew Sherlock. He could practically hear the gears spinning with questions and apologies while he lay there. He only wanted a few more moments before he had to face reality this time.

Approximately fifteen minutes later Sherlock began to fidget subtly and by twenty minutes could not contain himself any longer. "So you remember everything?"

John sighed heavily as he answered, "Yes. Everything, the anniversary, the cab, the accident….all of it."

Sherlock was acutely aware that John didn't mention the child so steeled himself to deliver the news. "John, I have to tell you th.." his words cut off abruptly as John placed warm fingers over his lips.

"Don't. I know."

This was all the reply he gave before releasing Sherlock and returning to his quiet contemplation. Sherlock did not understand how he could know. John was unconscious following the accident and surgery, then they had not mentioned it afterwards due to the memory loss. Sherlock's natural curiosity soon won out.

"How?" he asked simply but John knew what he wanted to know. Explaining it to Sherlock would be a different story.

"When I first woke up, I felt the emptiness inside but didn't know why. When my memory returned, I knew what it was. I knew the child was gone." John didn't want to face the grief he felt, didn't want to think how happy he had been about the pregnancy or how much he had wanted the child he would never know. He didn't want to think about the pain of his beaten and broken body let alone the deep ache of the empty womb in his abdomen. The Omega in John screamed at being robbed of this fundamental part of his nature. John the doctor, the soldier, refused to be dictated by the Omega but answering Sherlock still opened the door on grief and pain. John allowed the tears to come when they could no longer be suppressed.

Sherlock could not begin to understand how John could 'feel' the absence of the child but he understood the hot tears wetting the front of his shirt and the soft sobs John muffled in his chest as well. Holding as tightly as he dared, Sherlock kissed John softly on his bowed head and whispered, "I'm so sorry love. So sorry….for all of it...everything, but especially _our_ child John." The man he loved only shook harder at his words. Sherlock felt completely helpless but did his best to comfort John just as he would do for him; offering as much soothing as he could with his words and actions, not even knowing if they reached John in this state. Still hoping his mate would appreciate it eventually, Sherlock continued to stroke and kiss gently, "Shhh…..it's okay love...I'm here...I've got you...It will be alright love...somehow…...we will make it alright. I promise you…..I promise...I Love You." On and on he spoke softly to his mate, until the sobs quieted, the tears and shaking stopped, and John slept quietly on his chest. Sherlock thought he should sleep but his thoughts were too busy. Instead he rested his head back against the pillow and observed the man sleeping in his arms. Such a strong, beautiful man, solid and dependable always, Sherlock thought he could never hope to deserve John but he loved him desperately nonetheless. He began to compile a list in his head of things he could do for John to make up for his mistake with the anniversary. Anything he thought could make things better or make John remotely happy was quickly added to the list whether large or small. It was quite a sizeable list already when Sherlock himself fell asleep.

Morning arrived and John promptly announced his desire to go home. Sherlock hid his chuckle as he remembered Mycroft's final task last evening. John had a point. The Omega needed to be at home in familiar surroundings to feel safe and heal more efficiently. The Alpha likewise needed his Omega secure in their own territory where he could protect and care for him properly. However, there were also some things to be seen about before the doctors were going to allow him to leave the hospital. John groused about and refused to take more than a half dose of his pain meds so he remained lucid to talk to his doctors when they came.

Sherlock knew better than to attempt to change his mind and instead made sure John had a hearty breakfast to appease him. This was accomplished via an early text to Lestrade and Ms. Hudson, both of whom arrived with goodies in tow. Ms. Hudson cooed and fussed over John adjusting and fluffing his pillows until he sat up comfortably. Greg, who had been enlisted to bring Ms. Hudson and said goodies, merely leaned against the wall and chuckled good-naturedly at the fuss. They had both been apprised of the returned memory and carefully avoided mentioning the child for John's sake. Ms. Hudson enlisted Sherlock and Greg to help lay out the full fry-up she had prepared. Sausages, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, tomatoes, toast, butter, John's favorite jam again, even some freshly baked muffins, with tea and coffee to round out the meal.

John stared at the food before him, his mouth agape at the quantity, before coming to his senses and snapping it shut. "Ms. Hudson I appreciate this immensely, I really do...but...there's no way I can eat all of this." John hoped he hadn't offended dear Ms. Hudson after all this hard work.

Ms. Hudson merely looked at John, her bland expression giving nothing away. "Well of course you can't John!" she exclaimed with a twinkle in her eyes as she pulled out extra plates, cups, and utensils. "Now ALL of you boys sit down and eat a good breakfast while it's warm!"

Greg, who seldom got the pleasure of home cooking himself, thanked Ms. Hudson profusely. Happily grabbing a plate and cup of coffee before situating himself on the cot so he could eat. Sherlock gave her a hug and kissed her cheek fondly, "Thank you Ms. Hudson."

She blushed a bit and shooed him away, "And I mean you too mister!" She pushed him down on his chair beside John and put a plate in his hand.

John chuckled around his mouthful of potatoes and gestured meaningfully at the food when Sherlock shot a glance his way. It was so good to see John in a good humor for even a little while that Sherlock happily filled his plate, collected a cup of tea and ate with them.

A nurse, so fresh out of school she practically sparkled, bustled in to check John's vital signs and promptly began to berate them for inappropriate eating in the patient's room and too many visitors, citing the hospital's policy. Her tirade met with silence and wide eyes from those in the room. When the young woman dutifully grabbed Greg's arm and tried to escort him out John thought perhaps he should do something before Lestrade considered arresting her for assaulting an officer. With a quick wink to Greg he spoke up.

"Oh Miss? Could you hold up there for just a moment?" Sherlock had been busily texting away and John suspected he knew what about. When Sherlock gave him the slightest hint of a nod, John rang the nurses desk and asked for the charge nurse to come to his room. The charge nurse was an older matron well-versed in managing a unit. "Ah yes, Nurse Manning wasn't it? Our rather capable nurse here seems to have taken issue with the guests Mister Holmes and myself have at the moment as well as the fine repast they have brought for us. I simply wondered if this was in keeping with the arrangements made by Mister Holmes' elder brother, a Mister Mycroft Holmes?" John smiled his sweetest, most innocent smile at both nurses. Nurse Manning reacted in the way they had come to expect from someone Mycroft had put the fear of **Him** into. She quickly hurried the other nurse out of their room chastising her for bothering the patient and guests. They were all able to hear her further 'instructing' the young woman in the matter of 'special accommodations' for the British government.

Silence reigned until they heard the voices fade away down the hall but then the laughter began in earnest! Even Sherlock smiled at John and chuckled low in his throat. They laughed until their eyes were wet with tears in the best way. Though the laughter caused his sides to ache, John actually felt just a bit better as some of the constant tension eased. He wiped his eyes as his laughter faded to soft chuckles, "Oh I should Not have done that! Heh..heh...but Christ that was funny!"

Sherlock thought Mycroft would appreciate his name being exploited like that if he could only see John smiling and laughing right now. This wasn't on Sherlock's list of things to do for John but he was quite content to add it anyway in the 'Done' column. He promptly revised his list also to include 'Make John laugh at least once every day' with an extra note, 'More than once if possible'.

Soon however they packed away the remains of their breakfast and said good-bye to Lestrade and Ms. Hudson. Greg still had to get to work and promised to drop Ms. Hudson back at 221 on the way to the Yard. When they were alone again, John sighed and relaxed back on the bed reaching for Sherlock's hand. They didn't talk, just rested quietly together. It was all either of them needed.

This was how Doctor Ashford found them when he made rounds. "Well Doctor Watson, I understand you had an eventful evening **And** you already wish to leave us?!"

"Yes. I am sure you have already received a report on the return of my memory. And honestly between the two of us we spend far too much time in hospitals. We try our best to minimize our stays as much as possible; usually being a doctor myself does tend to help our situation"

"Indeed Doctor Watson! I reviewed your file last night. Quite the adventurous life you and your mate live….I could tell you to be careful but your file _does_ speak for itself. Well I will do my exam but I am comfortable sending you home to recover. You may need some physical therapy for a time as muscles and ribs heal. And Doctor Johnson will have to sign off as well. He will be around later to see you."

"Doctor Johnson? Why does he have to sign off on my discharge?" John had forgotten to ask Sherlock about his doctor being here after he woke again.

"Doctor Johnson came in the night of your accident. He handled the D&C you required himself. There are some specific complications and after-care for you and your mate to be aware of. He will not release you until he has seen you and is confident the threat of hemorrhage is minimal, even if you are a doctor." Doctor Ashford smiled kindly at John who had gone quite pale again as he talked. "I shouldn't worry too much Doctor Watson. Your labs look very good, your hemoglobin is within normal limits, and you seem to be managing on minimal pain medicines. Now let's get on with it shall we, then worry about the rest later." Sherlock remained by the bedside for the exam again. John still groaned a bit from the pain of the exam but it was tolerable. Some questions to test John's memory and mental acuity and the doctor was satisfied. "I shall let Doctor Johnson know that I have signed off and am amenable to your discharge pending his approval as well. I wish you well Doctor Watson." He shook both of their hands and left them alone once more.

"I forgot to ask about Doctor Johnson," John simply stated.

"Hmm?"

"I saw you talking to him in the hallway. That was what triggered the recall, seeing him in the hallway with you, but I forgot to ask about it when I woke." John looked expectantly at Sherlock.

"He wanted to check on you but with the memory loss he felt it would be too traumatic to examine you for a...a miscarriage you could not even remember. He was just reviewing your care with me and alerting me to things I should be on the look-out for should you have complications."

"Oh." John cringed inwardly, thinking of the things the doctor would have told Sherlock; Omega things that John generally didn't discuss with him unless necessary. He made no comment in this regard however. "Hmm...probably would do the same in that situation myself," John stated. "I guess we wait for Doctor Johnson then."

Doctor Johnson arrived just after lunch. John had not eaten, claiming to still be full from their large breakfast. Truthfully he had been increasingly nervous about the doctor's visit, what he may find, or what he would tell them. John was also anxious because he did not want Sherlock present for _this_ exam. He knew this went against practically all common practice codes for mated Alpha/Omega pairs. The Alpha normally would not let Any person touch their mate without being at their side. It was the protective as well as possessive instincts in play. It was the reason Mycroft had to control Sherlock while John was in surgery. How could John hope to explain. He felt broken inside and feared it somehow reflected on the outside, more than his gunshot wound ever had. This felt different, raw and painful. Despite logic and knowing the violence of the accident, John still felt like he had failed somehow. If he had been stronger, he thought, he could have held the child…..could still be pregnant instead of the empty shell he felt like. John knew Sherlock saw him as a strong man worthy of standing and fighting beside him as they so often did. He was terrified of Sherlock seeing him as lesser or weak when the doctor examined him for this very feminine aspect of Omega nature, worrying when he could see and smell blood between John's legs. What if he never wanted him again? No...John just would not have it! Doctor Johnson was an older doctor with silver-grey hair, kind eyes and a soft laugh. He had always been very understanding of John's resentments of his Omega gender. Doctor Johnson had been John's doctor through his enlistment to now, understanding his desire to have a life beyond the dictates of his gender. He helped John with heat suppressants and hormones to modify his scent and hide his gender from the public at large, even Sherlock had not known until after his return. John had not cared for himself well during that time and slipped up in his personal camouflage. Once Sherlock knew and revealed himself as the Alpha John always assumed he was anyway, Doctor Johnson had been the one to help wean John off of the suppressants and hormones to allow for a proper heat and bonding for the pair. John was still madly turning all these thoughts over in his head when Doctor Johnson sat down in Sherlock's now vacated chair and addressed him.

"Hello John. Rough go of it this time eh? How are you doing?" his warm smile and casual manner reminded John why he liked the man so much and at least calmed his frenzied mind.

"Well I feel like the wrong end of a stampede more or less. And all I want to do is go home to my flat and my bed with my mate and stay there for the better part of a month actually," John replied truthfully.

Doctor Johnson laughed. "Always honest aren't you John? Well as long as your activity in that bed consist of rest for that month then I will see what I can do for you. Your blood work does look excellent, your vital signs are all stable, let's just see about your exam and maybe I can let you head home." Doctor Johnson had already put on his gloves while he talked and was reaching for John's covers already.

John panicked a bit, grabbing the covers and blurting out, "No..wait. Sherlock would you mind just waiting outside the door while we do this?"

Doctor Johnson sat back in the chair and stared at John for a moment while Sherlock simply looked stunned.

With a quick glance at Sherlock, Doctor Johnson spoke, "John….you know that is not standard practice and you know why."

John nodded at Doctor Johnson all the while looking at Sherlock, silently pleading for him to understand. "Yes….yes I know. I just…..I can't explain…..I need him to…." John couldn't get anything reasonable out of his mouth and Sherlock just stared at him trying to deduce the answer to this new puzzle as he saw it. In desperation John turned to Doctor Johnson and whispered feebly, "I can't let him see me broken….not like this….please." And Doctor Johnson did understand somehow and tried to help. "Mister Holmes, I realize it is unusual but could you consider doing this? For John's peace of mind? You only have to step just outside and you don't even have to close the door. You can hear everything going on and I promise you can come back in as soon as I'm done so that I may speak to both of you. Would that be possible this time?"

Sherlock continued to stare at John, not quite able to understand this request. John had been increasingly nervous all morning. He refused to eat lunch saying he wasn't hungry even though Sherlock could hear his stomach grumbling again. And now this request, a request he had never made before, even when they weren't bonded John always liked to have him here. So what was different now? All things considered the only thing different with this visit over any other was the miscarriage. The….OH! John was nervous about this particular exam, this wasn't just another injury. This was far more personal. Sherlock got the impression that John somehow viewed this as a failing of his own body. He was uncomfortable and he didn't want Sherlock to see him in this state. Always at a bit of a loss when it came to the emotions John himself was so good with, Sherlock knew he perhaps did not understand all the finer points of this situation as yet, but he thought he was beginning to understand. He stepped closer to John.

John knew the last thing he needed was for Sherlock to decide he was being rejected and start to brood. He tried to pour all the love he felt into his gaze as he asked once more, "Please love, can you do this just for me...because I asked and leave it there?" Any further requests were cut off by soft full lips pressing against his in a chaste kiss.

"I will be right outside John, if you need me, just call out when you're ready." Then he turned and walked out leaving a surprised mate and an equally shocked doctor.

Still Doctor Johnson wasted no time pulling back the covers. Palpating John's abdomen completely, pressing deep for the organs he needed to find, observing for any gush of blood or clot that should not be there . John fought the cry that tried to make it's way out, merely for Sherlock's sake, because the pain was deep and intense. He made his way through with only a small moan and some panted respirations. Doctor Johnson instructed him to raise his knees and spread his legs. This normally proceeded a regular internal exam but this would wait for a bit more healing. The doctor only made a close external exam and assessed the residual bleeding left after the miscarriage and D&C. Everything in order he allowed John to straighten himself and recovered him as well. Just before he called Sherlock back in he whispered to John, "I can assure you John, you may be hurting and bleeding, you may not even feel whole just now, but you are in no way broken." With another warm reassuring smile he called to Sherlock.

Sherlock quickly returned, eyes instinctively raking over his mate. John gave a small smile and indicated the space next to him. Sherlock slid next to John and wrapped his arms around him, John relaxing instantly into them. Both men felt better at once and faced the doctor together.

"You did not require stitches so nothing to watch for there. John, you do have some very deep bruises to your groin and abdomen both from the accident and the surgery. Those alone will take weeks to reabsorb. Internally it will take at least four to six weeks for the organs to heal, settle into proper position and begin function regularly. I can not tell you when your regular heat cycle will resume only that it should. You are not of an age where heats normally stop so that is not a concern. Should you both decide you still want children, there is no physical reason for this not to be possible for you both once the heats resume. I realize you are both intelligent men but I must caution you against any penetrative intercourse until after the prescribed healing period."

John and Sherlock both found themselves blushing hotly and squirming a bit at the doctors frankness. it was a bit like getting the 'birds-and-the-bees' talk from your parents...or heaven forbid your big brother, as the case may be. Still they both understood the seriousness of the doctor's instructions.

"Well John, the rest is standard post-op care, instructions for dressing changes, and outpatient follow-up appointments in six weeks. You know when you need help, when to call either Doctor Ashford or myself. I see no reason we can't let you go home this afternoon. I'll send a nurse in the see about your IV so you can get dressed while we get your paperwork together. Sound good?"

"Yes...oh yes it does! Thank you so much Doctor Johnson." John shook his hand with a smile. Even Sherlock thanked him warmly before he left the room.

The Alpha practically purred at the prospect of going home and Sherlock himself was feeling quite happy. Stealing a kiss he asked, "Well are you ready to go home Doctor Watson? *kiss* Captain Watson? *kiss* My Dear? *kiss* My Blogger? *kiss* My Spouse? *kiss* My love? *kiss* John was giggling by the time Sherlock stopped long enough to let him answer.

"Yes Please, Sherlock! Lets go home!"

**Author's Note:** WHEW! Longest chapter I have written yet but I was determined to get John headed home from the hospital! Thank you so much to ALL who are following and sticking with the story. We still have sexy times and a villain to get to so please stay tuned! And I still Greatly Appreciate all reviews since I am still quite new to this, your feedback can only help me improve! Thank you all again!


	7. Chapter 7

It took another hour and a half before they were ready to leave the hospital. The nurse had dutifully removed John's IV needle and left him to dress, that alone took the better part of a half hour. Sherlock had to help of course because the rib fractures limited mobility too much to allow John to dress himself. Neither man was a stranger to fractured ribs but both found the limitations of healing frustrating to their independent natures. For John, already dealing with his own worries and fears, it was particularly hard this time. He fought not to snap at Sherlock irrationally because he knew his mate was doing everything he could to help. John wanted him to move faster, to just be done already, but then a sudden pain would remind him of Why Sherlock was being so careful. Eventually they were done, without either man snapping at the other, and waiting not so patiently for the discharge papers. John thought of the days ahead and how many times the same process would have to be repeated trying to mentally prepare himself.

John was on the verge of simply walking out the door when the nurse finally brought his paperwork. John dutifully signed his name and tried to refuse the wheelchair out to the car. But the nurse and Sherlock were quite insistent, not only was it policy but John was weakened by blood loss and unsteady from narcotics. He silently fumed all the way down to the door. John had expected Sherlock to simply hail a taxi as always but found himself strangely relieved when he found one of Mycroft's sleek black sedans waiting for them. He wouldn't say he was afraid of the taxi, he just didn't feel he could ride in one so soon after the accident. He found himself consciously trying to avoid reminders of that whole night, though rationally it was pointless since he was going home to Baker Street.

Sherlock helped him into the back seat making sure he settled comfortably before joining him. He sat close beside John clasping his left hand in his right, "Ready," he asked.

John nodded giving Sherlock's hand a little squeeze before replying, "Let's go home."

The car ride was smooth and quiet and John found himself dozing on Sherlock's shoulder only to be woken by a soft kiss to his head and the tap of a hand on his thigh. "We're here, love."

Once again Sherlock helped him from the car before seeing to their bags. Getting up the stairs was its own challenge for John, the climb caused every bruise and ache in his body to flair to life once more. Sherlock reached out toward John, however the offer of assistance died on his tongue in the face of the glare his mate gave him. John was a very stubborn man and he refused to be pandered to no matter what injury or pain he was in. Sherlock for once took the hint and proceeded John up the stairs to the flat. John took the stairs slowly. He could only take one or two steps without stopping to breathe a moment before continuing. By the time he reached the flat he was sweating, short of breath and in pain again. Quite happily he sank down into his chair and thought he might not leave it all night.

Sherlock had put away their bags and waited anxiously for John to make it up the stairs. Every instinct pushing him to go help John, to pick him up and carry him up the stairs if necessary. However, knowing it was best not to fight John in this matter, he fought his own instincts instead. He got out John's pain meds and a glass of water, placing them on the table beside John's chair, and put the kettle on for tea which he was sure would be as welcome as the medication. He heard John make it to the landing and glanced to the doorway just to make sure John was managing alright. He saw him sink slowly into his chair and then reach for the medicine after a moment. Sherlock made no comment but smiled to himself while he finished the tea, adding milk just the way John liked it. Knowing John needed some food on his stomach as well with the medication, he added a few biscuits to the saucer and carried it out to him.

John was grateful Sherlock had left him to his own means even though he was sure it drove him spare to do it. He sighed when he found the water and pain pills waiting beside his chair and swallowed them gladly. When presented with hot tea and biscuits, John couldn't stop himself from smiling at his mate. A soft "Thank you love," offered as he took his tea.

Sherlock understood he meant more than the tea though and leaned forward to kiss him once more. "You're welcome," he whispered in reply before sitting down with his own tea. They sat in silence each relieved to be back in their home and lost in their own thoughts. The soft clink of china on china roused Sherlock from his contemplation. John had fallen asleep in his chair, the empty cup and saucer slipping from his hands to his lap. Sherlock quietly took the cup and saucer from John, slipped his shoes off his feet, and covered him with a warm throw from the sofa.

Leaving John to sleep peacefully, Sherlock saw to making some preparations for the evening. He knew John and after his days in the hospital he would be wanting a bath, a hot meal, and sleep. Sherlock got out fresh loose pajamas for John, fresh towels for the bath, and set out the dressing materials to redress the surgical site afterwards. Ms. Hudson had already made the bed up with clean sheets and extra pillows and brought up a pot of stew with french bread for their supper. Sherlock had thanked her graciously for once, determined to do better for John. He knew John had a lot on his mind now and hadn't really focused on Sherlock's failing that started this but he would eventually. They would still have to face it and talk about it and Sherlock remained focused on doing everything in his power to make it up to John….to be a proper Alpha for him. He was supposed to take care of John, keep him safe and secure. He hadn't done that and both he and John suffered as a result. He had to make it right. Satisfied with his preparations, checking that the door was locked and John continued to sleep soundly, Sherlock headed for the shower himself. He was quite sure John would appreciate him having a bath as well; two or more days waiting anxiously in the hospital did make one very pungent.

"_Dark…..it was too damn dark! WHY was it always dark? He had to find him…..lost. John was searching desperately for something?...someone?….he wasn't even sure. Was Sherlock in trouble again? John was trying to get a sense of where he was to decide which way to go….but there was nothing but darkness...no clues to follow…..no sounds. The panic in John's heart was increasing, the thrum of his own pulse pounding in his ears...fear for something he couldn't even name. Only a dream John tried to tell himself in his head….only a dream…..a dream. Suddenly a shrill, high-pitched cry echoed out into the darkness and continued. Absolute terror shot through John at that cry, fear he had never felt even during his military service. He ran blindly through the dark in the direction he thought the cry came from. The cry continued and John knew it was the cry of a child...perhaps an infant. What was wrong? John had often heard the cries of children hungry or without parents when he would be on patrols and he always hated it. What could he do…...he had to help…had to find him...he __**Had**__ to. The crying got louder and more insistent and John continued to run towards the sound desperate to find the source feeling as though his own heart would break if he could not find it. Suddenly he stumbled over something in the dark and fell to the ground; the sound stopped abruptly. NO! John shouted in frustration. He listened intently but the sound did not return. Without anything to guide him, John found he was crying...he didn't find it….didn't save it…the poor child lost and alone. A sudden flood of bright light blinded him and a loud siren sounded, deafening him to anything else. John was still crying and screamed his absolute anger into the chaos around him."_

John awoke with a cry that quickly turned into a sob, tears already running down his cheeks. Disoriented and still feeling the fear and panic of the dream, John had to look around for a moment to place himself. Home and Safe his mind quickly supplied. He didn't see any sign of Sherlock but the sound of the shower running quickly solved that mystery. John sighed realizing that was probably why Sherlock hadn't woken him from the dream or been there the second he cried out. He slumped back into the chair as he calmed, wiping tears from his face with a shaky palm. He really didn't feel like explaining the dream or the tears to Sherlock now. He wasn't even sure he Could explain it to him…..what it had been about. John glanced down and found his hand spread across his abdomen. _"...a child crying….lost in the dark…" _With a shuddering breath John drew his hand slowly away from his abdomen and found fresh tears falling, he understood exactly what the dream was about and he didn't want to face the thoughts or emotions it brought up. The sound of the shower cut off and John knew Sherlock would be out shortly. He viciously rubbed the tears away and grabbed a book off of the side table to appear busy.

Sherlock appeared moments later still towelling his hair dry. Happy to see John awake he smiled and questioned, "Did you sleep well?" John just smiled in return, nodding his head and rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

"I just woke up before you came out. And actually, if you can give me a hand up, I need to go to the bathroom."

Sherlock noticed John's eyes were a bit red but he had just been rubbing at them. Probably slept hard then, still getting himself awake. He offered John his forearm, grasping each other elbow to wrist, he helped John ease to his feet once more.

After a moment to be sure of his balance John spoke, "After I'm done I'll see about some supper for us, yeah?"

Sherlock instantly challenged this notion, "No...sorry...You, need to rest! Besides Ms. Hudson left us a stew, so you can relax and enjoy it." Kissing John on the nose he continued, "I know you will want a bath. Do you want to eat before or after?"

John thought for a moment. It hadn't been long enough for more pain pills and he was feeling as good as he was likely to physically for the moment. Decision made he replied, "Best do it now before the pain meds wear off. Then I can eat a good meal before it's time for more meds and bed."

Sherlock nodded in agreement, "I have everything ready for you. Come on then."

John stopped him quickly with a hand on his arm. "Do you mind giving me a few? I do still need to use the bathroom and then you can come help me, yeah?"

Sherlock tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Just call me when you're ready."

John made his way into the bathroom. Getting his pants down was easy enough and he held the towel bar to help ease himself down onto the toilet. He quickly removed and disposed of the sanitary pads after checking the amount of bleeding present and determining it to be normal enough. He honestly didn't know how to deal with this part of his healing. This wasn't a normal injury from some criminal. This was a painful reminder of his Omega nature and his failure as the same. John had built his life around the image of a strong man, which he was, but he still struggled to cope with this very feminine part of his nature. He didn't want Sherlock to see this, to see him as less than a man or even as a failure as his Omega. What if he wouldn't want him after this? Sherlock could have had anyone he wanted ever. And John? He was just John, a man fortunate enough to gain Sherlock's affections and he just couldn't shake these insecurities, especially now. After he finished John stood at the sink and washed himself gently, removing the worst of the blood for now then rinsing out the cloth and burying it in the dirty towels. Since the water was on he went ahead and quickly brushed his teeth before calling in Sherlock.

Sherlock couldn't help his raised eyebrows when he found John naked from the waist down and his shirt unbuttoned, waiting for his help. John merely cocked his head and gave him an eye roll, "I'm not exactly helpless you know?!"

Sherlock smirked and moved to help John with his shirt and removing his dressing before starting the water and stripping out of his pajamas to get in with John. John wanted to protest but knew he wouldn't even be able to lift his arms enough to wash his own hair.

The warm water felt so good on John's aching body that he just stood for long moments underneath the spray. Seeing John fully naked for the first time since the accident Sherlock took in the breadth and depth of the bruising to John's body. Random lacerations among the vicious purples and blues spread across his back, trailed over shoulders and down his chest to his abdomen. Brought face to face with injuries severe enough to cost them their child, Sherlock could only be thankful they did not also cost him John. Sherlock managed to hold back and let him relax for several minutes but finally wrapped his arms around John. Pressing close to his mate's back, nuzzling into his hair, and kissing the nape of his neck, Sherlock realized he wasn't sure who needed this comfort more, him or John. John relaxed back into Sherlock as well, leaning his head back onto the shoulder there and resting his arms on top of those around his waist. They were silent taking in the peace each mate offered the other. Finally John sighed, turning in Sherlock's arms and placing a kiss to the middle of the pale chest in front of him, he said, "We should really get done before we turn into prunes or freeze when this water turns cold on us."

Sherlock gave John a chaste kiss and reached for the shampoo. He quickly washed and rinsed John's hair for him then soaped up a cloth and gently washed over John's torso, arms, and back. Sherlock was aware of John tensing as he moved down his body with the cloth so he paused. After a moment John sighed heavily and spread his legs for Sherlock to continue. Sherlock was not surprised to see fresh blood on the cloth but quickly deduced what had John so tense. He made no comment just continued to gently wash John until they were done and then made sure the soap rinsed clean. Sherlock stepped out, dried quickly, and redressed in his pajamas so he could have a towel waiting for John when he stepped out of the shower. He dried John off quickly and helped him with pants and pajama bottoms. Once again conscious of John's tension, Sherlock nodded his head toward the toilet, "I'll give you a few minutes? Come in the kitchen when you're done and we'll see about your dressing."

John was so surprised by Sherlock's unspoken understanding that he could only nod. Left alone, he saw to clean pads and pulled his pants and pajamas back up. Feeling a bit relieved by Sherlock's lack of comment, John squared his shoulders, grabbed his shirt, and walked into the kitchen. Their med kit and all the dressing supplies were already waiting. Sherlock had the chair pulled out for John and waited while he sat down slowly, then made swift work of the new dressing considering he had nearly as much practice as John now. Helping John with his loose cotton shirt, he questioned, "Do you want to eat here or in the sitting room? I put the stew on to warm already."

John indicated the sitting room and moved that way while Sherlock put away the supplies again. John chose to sit on the sofa this time so he and Sherlock could sit together and eat….maybe watch some telly. John absently flipped it on but left the volume down and didn't bother to pick a show. Even though the shower had felt great it had sapped all of his energy again and he felt exhausted. No surprise then when Sherlock brought a tray in with the stew, bread, and tea, he found John dozing with his elbow on the armrest and his chin in his palm. John roused quickly to Sherlock's cleared throat and happily took his tray breathing in the succulent stew. Sherlock returned in a moment with his own tray and sat beside John. The telly played on mindlessly as background noise while they both ate heartily. John raised his eyebrows when Sherlock actually emptied his own bowl, granted his serving had been smaller than John's but it was still a rare occurrence. Sherlock merely shrugged and said, "It was quite good! We really should get the recipe from Ms. Hudson."

John chuckled while Sherlock cleared away the trays and returned with another tall glass of water and John's pills. John swallowed them down and handed back the glass of water. Sherlock put the glass away and quickly returned to pull John into his arms. They sat peacefully John resting his head against Sherlock's shoulder while he flipped through a few channels. Now full and tired, with his meds starting to kick in, John found himself fighting to stay awake as he wondered if he would have the same dream again. After jerking awake for the third time Sherlock turned off the telly and encouraged John to go to bed.

"Why don't you go on John? I really need to look at my emails after three days away and you need rest. I promise I will be quick about it and come in as soon as I am done."

John nodded and leaned over to kiss Sherlock sweetly. "Good-night love," he breathed against Sherlock's lips before applying another kiss to them.

Sherlock rose to help John up from the low sofa. Hugging John to him as tightly as he dared he returned the kiss, "Good-night love. I'll be in soon. Rest well."

John nodded and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and then to the bedroom closing the door softly behind him.

Alone.

He actually had a few moments alone. It probably wasn't the best thing now but John was feeling desperate for some time alone. Sherlock had not left his side for a moment and John did understand. Truly, after the scare of the accident it was instinctual as much as from love, Sherlock needed to see John to know he was okay, needed to be there for him to provide comfort and care. John understood….he always understood. But since he woke from the dream this evening John had fought with himself and his memories. Being here only brought back the last night he was home, all it was supposed to be and all that had happened. Yes, Sherlock had apologized and yes he was sincere. John only had to look into those eyes to see the depth of Sherlock's own sorrow over the night. And John knew without even discussing it that Sherlock was busy thinking of any and everything he could do to make up for that night. John just wasn't sure it was something that could be made up. Forgetting the anniversary perhaps….given time. The child? The child he couldn't even come to terms with himself so far, truthfully didn't even know if Sherlock had wanted it, so how could Sherlock be expected to make up for that? For an accident? He didn't cause it, he couldn't have stopped it. _'Yes he could,"_ the voice in John's head not so helpfully supplied, _"He Could have done what he promised and remembered your bonding anniversary then you would have been out with him instead of joy-riding in a cab."_ STOP IT! John shook himself trying to stop that train of thought. It wasn't Sherlock's fault, the accident could have happened anytime! Bloody Hell it could have happened when we were together in the cab and then where would we be?! Neither of us could survive if the other died!

John truly was tired but he needed these moments alone. Placing both hands on top of the bureau he leaned forward closing his eyes as he tried to calm and gather his thoughts. When he opened his eyes once more he found himself staring at the papers confirming his pregnancy from Doctor Johnson's office. The papers felt like another glaring accusation of failure to John, a reminder that he was broken and he felt an instant spark of rage at the situation. "No point in keeping these around anymore," he grumbled out loud as he crumpled all of them together and threw them in the small bin by the bed as hard as he could manage. "No anniversary….no anniversary present." he ground out bitterly as he crossed over to the window. John knew his temper was a personal shortcoming and he always worked to control it. Usually he succeeded very well. Right now he wasn't even sure what he was so angry at; himself, his body for betraying him, Sherlock, the drunk driver who caused the wreck, or the world in general. He stared out the window into the night breathing as deeply as he could manage trying to sort his thoughts and emotions. He finally decided he was angry about the papers simply because they made him face reality. However he wasn't pregnant anymore and that was that, he tried to tell himself. The papers didn't matter without the outcome they promised, the joy they had represented. They meant nothing but failure….failure….failure, the Omega decided to add to the party in John's mind and heart.

John continued to stand at the window, seeing nothing as his thoughts turned inward. He hadn't failed he told himself. His child, **Their** child had been taken from them in a cruel twist of fate. It should have been easy enough to let go, John had never planned on children, had never even discussed it with Sherlock...it just happened. He should be able to let it go, forget about it he thought. But he couldn't. He remembered his earlier dream and what it implied. Their child was real and John had wanted it more than anything he had ever wanted, short of Sherlock himself, and now it was no more. John realized he was crying again at the same moment he found himself rubbing his now empty abdomen, no life to be found, no child of theirs.

With a sudden sob, John rushed to the bin and retrieved the papers. Unfolding the wad he had made, smoothing out the pages until they were relatively flat again, John pressed them to his chest, crawled into bed, and wept. "You were real," he said softly to the empty room. "This is my proof. You were real and you were here, you shared my body and my life for a time. I am so sorry it wasn't longer...so sorry I will never know you, never get to show you the world. I will miss you for the rest of my life and beyond." John wept, muffling his sobs in his pillow, until exhaustion and medication caught up with him and he fell deeply asleep.

When Sherlock came to bed an hour later he found John sound asleep. However the red, puffy eyes were apparent and John still clutched the papers to his chest. "Oh my John," he sighed, sadly brushing his fingertips through the coarse, sandy hair and brushing his thumb across the trail of dried salty tears on one cheek before he bent to kiss it. Sherlock started to take the papers and lay them back on the bureau but decided to leave them with John. Crawling into bed behind John, Sherlock pulled him close to his front and wrapped an arm around his waist. Mycroft was right he thought. They would have to talk about this to be able to move forward. Sherlock knew he was often no good with emotions, but now he was convinced John was keeping things to himself because he felt he couldn't talk to him. And he was hurting, much more deeply than physical pain. Sherlock vowed to himself that he would be there for John. He would listen and he would talk about his own thoughts and feelings…..anything he could do to help John.

Nuzzling close to John again, he whispered, "I love you John Watson. And we will make it through this together. I am not going to promise and fail you, I am simply going to do. We will make things right love. You will see." Kissing John's cheek once more Sherlock settled to sleep still keeping John snug in his embrace.

John slept soundly that night with no dreams to trouble his rest.

**Author's Note: **I can not let another chapter pass without a Huge Thanks to Domino62 (AO3) for her Very Gracious assistance reading and advising me regarding John's physical and emotional state. :-D It has been Tremendously helpful! I am always SO appreciative of Laurie Whitlock for her tireless efforts reading and assisting editing. Thanks also to Ravenwolf28 for laying an extra set of eyes on this chapter when I was too tired and hormonal to judge it anymore! :) Much appreciated my dear!

Sadly the BBC and the estate of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle retain all rights and I own nothing except the angst in which I seem to excel and play! HAHAHAHA!


	8. Chapter 8

John awoke to the painful reminder of the injuries of his body and the fact that any meds wore off hours ago while he slept. The warmth of a sleeping Sherlock pressed against his back felt nice but did not help the discomfort much. Glancing toward the clock, he was only slightly surprised to find his pills and some water waiting on the nightstand, and reached to take them without delay. John was however, quickly embarrassed to find he was still clutching the papers from last night, even more so when he realized Sherlock had seen him with them. As quietly as he could John smoothed the papers out, folded them in half, and slid them under his pillow. He would deal with them later. Swallowing his pills at last, John lay back against the pillow to give them some time to work before he attempted to get up.

Laying there in the quiet allowed John's thoughts to drift dangerously close to the despair of last night. Viciously determined **not** to revisit those thoughts and emotions, John chose instead to distract himself by watching Sherlock sleep. Watching was never enough in these quiet moments however, the urge to touch, to share the sensation of the other's skin had only grown stronger after the bond. The steady rise and fall of his breathing calmed John as he gently stroked his thumb over the soft lower lip and felt the warmth of each exhale. John reveled in the freedom to know Sherlock like this yet still never quite believed he deserved the beautiful man he was bound to. Reaching up he brushed soft curls away from the pale brow before placing a feather-light kiss there. Sherlock only wrinkled his nose and twitched an eyelid then settled to sleep again. John was glad he hadn't woken him. He noticed the dark circles were still present but the lines of tension around Sherlock's eyes were relaxed in sleep. John could imagine the hours Sherlock had pushed himself through waiting for him to wake in the hospital and would not deny the rest he so badly needed now. John eased onto his back and slightly away from Sherlock so he wouldn't disturb him. John was resigned to his thoughts once more turning over the past few days.

As much as John was a man of deeply held emotions and passions, he was also a practical man. He would heal and life would go on for them as before. John wanted to be the steadfast soldier protecting Sherlock at every turn, not the little missus at home with the babies. John tried to tell himself that a child really wouldn't have been practical with their lifestyle so surely what happened was for the best. John didn't believe it but kept telling himself this anyway. Regardless, there was no child to worry about now so John decided he would not dwell on it. He wouldn't think about it, certainly wouldn't talk about it….he would just move on. The faster he could forget about the whole thing and get on with his life with Sherlock the better. John didn't bother, of course, to consider Sherlock's thoughts or feelings when he made this decision. Sherlock had barely even mentioned the child to John so he assumed it was not important to him. It was simply a matter of John's recovery and would be dealt with as such. These were the thoughts that occupied his mind and John was sure he was making the best choice for the both of them.

If the subtle shift in the bed beside him hadn't alerted John that Sherlock was awake he might have been startled by the brilliant blue-green eyes he found staring intently back at him. "Good morning love," Sherlock smiled.

John smiled in return and tried to suppress the tremor he always got from that gorgeous baritone husky with sleep. "Good morning to you. S'pose you can help me up now you lazy git?" John couldn't resist winking cheekily at Sherlock.

Sherlock merely smirked as he got out of bed and came round to help John up. "I trust you slept well enough as you feel up to harassing me this morning. Did you have your medicine?"

"Yes I did, on both counts. Thank you." John answered simply, making no reference to the papers or last night. Getting up or down was the slowest and most uncomfortable part of healing. Nothing for it but to bear it thought John as he eased himself up to stand in front of Sherlock. "Thanks love. Think I can manage the loo without you though," a quick kiss on the lips and John was off to the bathroom.

Sherlock glanced around the room then at the bed deducing before lifting up John's pillow and finding the pages folded there. Sherlock had thought John would want to talk this morning. While not his personal strong suit, everyone was always telling him it was better to get things out than to bottle them up. He knew from experience that, while John would often want to talk, he also would often keep things to himself until he did blow up in a fit of anger. Sherlock thought they had made progress in their communications with each other after his return and their bonding, however this situation was unlike any they had faced before. Sherlock wasn't sure how to proceed but he knew he would have to try to encourage John to talk eventually. Leaving the pages as they were, Sherlock moved on to the kitchen to start the morning tea. John will feel more like talking after his tea, thought Sherlock.

Thirty minutes later found them in their usual chairs sipping their tea and munching on some toast. Sherlock, deciding John was likely as relaxed as he would get, broached the subject he felt he needed to, for John's sake.

"John?"

In return he received a lazy "Mmm..?"

"Did you want to talk?" Sherlock gestured between he and John. "About us? About everything that has happened?" He paused waiting for a response. When all he received was a blank stare he continued, "I know you usually want to talk about these things….so I just want you to know I am here. To talk. If you want to." Sherlock stumbled a bit over the last as John just continued to stare.

John had tensed as soon as the question left Sherlock's lips. _These things_ thought John, right...sticking to his plan. "What exactly would I need to talk about Sherlock? The anniversary? Yes that hurt a bit but it's over and done. Not exactly surprising for you so no sense dwelling on it. The accident? Just another accident, same old injuries to heal, a bit rubbish actually but there it is."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he took in John's face and demeanor. He could not believe John had just brushed everything off like that. It wasn't normal for John and Sherlock knew it, but John's face was a mask right now, giving nothing away for Sherlock to go on. Being Sherlock, he pushed.

"Injuries?! Accident?! John you lost a child!" he blurted out. "Our child." he added softly. "This isn't just any other thing you have to heal from."

John took a deep breath. He did **not** want to **do** this! Wanting this conversation over quickly John replied, "Yes Sherlock. I lost a child. A child we didn't plan for. A child that wouldn't fit in our lives and work anyway. Perhaps the accident was just the cosmos taking care of a mistake!" John couldn't meet Sherlock's eyes as he said it nor could he get rid of the sick feeling in his heart and gut at the words. He had to do it. He couldn't keep rehashing this over and over and there were only so many tears he could cry.

Sherlock stared at John in absolute shock at his words. He knew John would never treat this so callously and couldn't understand why he had done so. "John? You can't really believe that? That's not you John. I know you and I know your heart…..talk to me."

John huffed in frustration, "Look Sherlock, I've said my peace and I really don't want to talk about this any more. If you wouldn't mind helping me out of this chair I will go rest until lunch."

Sherlock moved on auto-pilot to help John, gripping his forearm before his mind fully caught up with John's words. "But John..?"

"NO Sherlock! I said no! Now leave me alone!" John turned his back to Sherlock and made his way to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Retrieving the papers from under his pillow, John opened the drawer with his socks and pants, slid them into the back of the drawer and covered them up. With a final touch and a whispered "I'm sorry", John sought to put the child firmly into his past.

The botched conversation set the tone for the next few weeks. Sherlock going out of his way to help John in every way he possibly could. Per Mycroft's instructions at the hospital, Sherlock was doing everything he could think of to show John how much he meant to him. John's healing was his entire focus for the present, he wasn't even working. He still subtly encouraged John to talk about things but after being soundly told off a couple of times he no longer brought the conversation up directly. He even sought advice from Ms Hudson, "Give him time Sherlock." And Lestrade, "You know John, he'll talk when he's ready. Or blow a gasket one." Sherlock was perhaps more frustrated than he had been in years but he kept trying and continued being there for John.

John for his part found he had thoughts of their child every single day. No matter what he did to distract himself the thoughts and sorrows would come. Yet he still couldn't bring himself to talk to Sherlock. Instead he focused on his healing and his growing frustration with Sherlock. The man was smothering him more than he ever thought was possible. He barely got a moment alone except when he was resting or going to the bathroom and sometimes even That was questionable.

So they continued at cross purposes, frustrations simmering just beneath the surface.

By the end of the first week John wanted to scream. Sherlock was treating him like a porcelain doll in need of kid gloves and the greatest of care. John appreciated that Sherlock cared but he wasn't some delicate flower. Sherlock was treating him the way he was always afraid of being treated if it was known he was an Omega, like he was helpless and had to be taken care of. He started to feel like he was trapped in some alternate world and the walls of the flat were closing in on him. The sense of claustrophobia was profound. John chuckled darkly, funny he thought, he had never been claustrophobic before.

John got a small reprieve the second week. First he started going to the physical therapy appointments. Mostly exercises and stretching to assure he regained his full range of motion as the rib fractures healed. The therapy was a pain but it got him out of the house. Secondly John harassed Greg until he found some cases Sherlock could work on from home. Sherlock still refused to leave John alone but the cases took some of his intense focus off of John for a while. At least John felt he could breathe easier. The healing was progressing well. John could manage to get himself up and down without too much strain now and moved about the flat easily. He was constantly sore however as his bruising finished coming to the surface and then began the slow process of fading. When he showered he thought he looked like a painted man, there were so many shades of purple, blue, red, green, and yellow across his body now. The _other_ bleeding had practically stopped but the gnawing ache of his abdomen let John know all was not healed there yet either.

By the third week, he did scream at Sherlock. "Take a damn case Sherlock! Get out of this fucking flat and leave me in peace before we both go mad!" Sherlock was taken aback by John's outburst and thought to argue at first. However, he actually was getting bored at home and John knew it. The instinct to take care of and protect John was still strong but Sherlock could tell John needed space. As soon as Lestrade texted with a new case the next week, Sherlock was off.

Of course without Sherlock's presence in the flat John found himself far too alone with his thoughts. Not for the first time John found himself in the bedroom with the papers back in his hands. Why couldn't he put it all behind him? Why couldn't he let this go? John pondered his thoughts and feelings for a time until the emotions threatened to overwhelm him again. John purposely put the papers back, shut the drawer firmly and left the flat for the first time in weeks on his own to take a short walk.

The fresh air and freedom was a balm to John's bruised spirit. He didn't intend to over do it though and headed toward the small park nearby. Upon reaching the park John found an empty bench under a shady tree and sat to rest. The weather was quite warm for April with a steady breeze still blowing but it did not deter the many people like John who were anxious for the outdoors. He entertained himself watching the other park goers strolling about, playing games, having picnics, sailing toy boats, and feeding the ducks. A young Omega pushing a pram approached John, indicating the other end of the bench she asked, "Do you mind if I sit here?"

John shook his head no and she took her seat with a tired sigh. "It feels so good just to sit sometimes doesn't it?" she asked, pulling a sandwich and pack of crisps out of her bag and digging in. John readily agreed, "Oh yes, definitely," and smiled back at her. "Doctor John Watson," he offered as he held out his hand.

"Oh.." quickly brushing her hand off on her jeans, "Sally Horwell. Pleased to meet you Doctor Watson." A shrill cry from the pram demanded her attention. Reaching over to lift out the baby she chuckled and said, "And this is Christian. He is a greedy little bugger who thinks mom shouldn't get to eat without him!"

John chuckled as she settled the baby on her lap and continued to eat with one hand. Christian remained quiet for a few moments taking in his surroundings with curiosity. As the nearest thing to him the babe became fixated on John rather quickly. John just smiled and continued to chat with Sally. When Christian realized he still didn't have any food however he started to fuss. "Alright, alright….just hold on a minute young man," Sally spoke as she reached blindly for the bag and the bottle of formula there. Unfortunately she knocked the bag off of the bench instead. "Oh...bugger! I just...I'm sorry Doctor, would you mind taking him for just a second while I get this?"

John didn't give a thought to his reply, "It's John. And no I don't mind." Taking the fussy bundle from his mom John tucked him expertly into the crook of his arm, gave him a finger to grasp, and began talking gibberish to soothe the baby while Sally retrieved the bag and bottle. It only took a moment for John's mind to catch up with what he was doing and realize how natural it felt. Only a fraction of a second brought the realization of how much he enjoyed it, followed swiftly by just how much he wanted it. When it finally occurred to him to wonder how it would have felt to hold his own child (their child) like this, John was lost.

When Sally had picked up everything from the spilt bag, returned it to the bench and retrieved the bottle, she was alarmed to find John looking wistfully at Christian with tears on his cheeks. "John..?" she questioned anxiously as she reached for her son. "What's wrong?"

John only became aware he was crying when Sally reached for the baby. He cursed himself and the unreasonable reluctance he felt to give the baby back. "I'm sorry," he said softly, passing the baby over, "I lo….I lost mine recently. My first...probably my only." Quickly wiping the stray tears away, he smiled to reassure her he wasn't some lunatic.

Sally was surprisingly sympathetic, placing a warm hand on John's forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze she merely said, "It's okay John." Then she gave Christian his bottle.

That was all, no questions, no pressure, no pity, just acceptance. John didn't think he had ever felt so relieved as that moment. Even when he wasn't saying anything John still felt the pressure from Sherlock to talk about everything, but especially the baby. He hadn't even realized that he felt that way nor how tense he had been because of it. They sat in silence while Christian ate and John relaxed. When it was time to burp him Sally kindly offered, "Would you like to do it?"

John thought for today he should limit further baby holding. Shaking his head he replied kindly, "No. Thank you for offering but I think I should pass."

Sally nodded in understanding and continued burping Christian, finally speaking once she returned the bottle to its owner. "Do you need to talk about it," she asked quietly, still focused on the baby.

John found that the question surprised him. First that he did not resent it and second because she said need. Not, did he _want_ to talk about it but did he _need_ to talk about it. John shocked himself when he replied, "Yes. I think I do."

So slowly, with halting words John began to tell this woman he barely knew his story. She listened attentively, nodded sympathetically, and joined with John when the tears fell again. When the story finished, Christian was asleep in the pram and John found he felt much lighter than he had when he left the apartment today. Offering John a clean burp cloth to wipe his eyes Sally merely said, 'Well John, it sounds like you have been through quite a lot."

John chuckled as he took the burp cloth and agreed, "Yes, I guess I have." Wiping his face dry John shook his head. "I haven't spoken to anyone about this in nearly a month, not even my mate. I can't believe I just sat here and told a veritable stranger the whole mess!"

Sally just shrugged, "No expectations. You don't have to tailor your responses to what you think I will expect you to say or feel so you're truthful and that is more cathartic for you. Easy peasy." She smiled at John's stunned expression.

"You know, I think you are exactly right! Thank you," John exclaimed with an answering smile. He hadn't been worried that he was thinking or feeling the way anyone else thought he _should_ be about everything...whether it was right or proper. He was just honest and she had listened without judgement.

Sally gave John a serious look, "The question then is what now? You've faced how you really feel about the accident, the loss…...children. What do you do now?"

John didn't have an answer yet. "Well, still healing and such. Can I get back to you on that one?"

Sally actually laughed causing John to smile. "Certainly John, you can find Christian and I in my office here everyday from one to three roughly. Barring rain of course."

John laughed at her wit and replied in kind, "Well perhaps I should get your number in case alternate appointment arrangements need to be made?"

"Yes I think that may be necessary as well," replied Sally holding out her hand for John's phone.

This was the moment John realized he hadn't brought his phone out with him. "I'm so sorry Sally. I only went for a short walk and left my phone at home."

Sally simply shrugged again, "Well give me your number and I can call your phone. No problem."

John gave her his number and then thought to check the time. He was startled to find he had spent the better part of two hours talking to Sally and he didn't even feel tired yet. Still he knew he should get home, it would be time for dinner and meds soon. Nevermind the fact that Sherlock had probably already tried to check in on him several times. John groaned inwardly and cursed himself for forgetting the phone. Making his farewell to Sally and Christian, with a promise to see them again at the park sometime this week, John headed home as quickly as he could.

John heard low mumbling with an occasional growl and rapid pacing as soon as he set foot on the bottom of the stairs. Sherlock. Shaking his head, John made his way up the stairs to deal with his wound up mate. Sherlock of course heard him before he even made it up to the flat.

"John! Are you okay?! Where have you been?! What happened?!" Sherlock practically drug John the rest of the way into the flat, frantically checking him over for any injuries, even looking behind John for potential dangers that could be lurking there before bolting the door firmly for safety.

Great, thought John. Sherlock's Alpha was riled up again. Adopting the most placating manner he could, John pressed himself next to Sherlock, nuzzled into his neck and scented their bond mark. The Alpha let out a soft growl but calmed as Sherlock put his arms around John and scented his mark in return.

"I'm really sorry Sherlock. I didn't mean to worry you at all. I only went for a short walk to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. But I lost track of time sitting at the park, and I guess I forgot my phone since I've hardly needed it for weeks. Truly, I'm sorry I've worried you." He didn't bother pointing out that Sherlock could have just had Mycroft check with the security detail he knew followed them everywhere, best not to poke the Alpha's pride just now. John had basically been talking to Sherlock's chest but pulled back to look him in the eyes as he finished.

Sherlock's sharp gaze raked over John's face, taking in his sincerity and the refreshing absence of all the tension John carried around these past weeks. Once assured that John was indeed fine, Sherlock released John's waist only to cup his face in both hands and press a firm kiss to his lips. " I am very glad you are okay John. I'm sure you understand that I would prefer you to always take your phone when you leave the flat. But perhaps now you can tell me what you were doing with a blonde and a baby during lunch?"

John didn't bother being surprised. "How?" he asked with a smile.

"Hair on your shoulder, formula and spit on your jacket, bread and chip crumbs on your pants, faint scent of perfume." Sherlock rattled off his findings as usual even surprising John who didn't realize Christian had spit up while he was holding him.

John moved them toward the sofa as he replied. "Very good. You got everything right. I'll tell you all about it but first you tell me, did you solve the case already?"

"Of course not John," Sherlock exclaimed. "You wouldn't answer your phone or text! I had to make sure you were alright! I had to John! It's my job as your mate and I couldn't fail you again! I just couldn't! I had to be sure!"

John was completely stunned by Sherlock's outburst. He was starting to realize that perhaps Sherlock had suffered more than he had thought from recent events. Not just today either, but everything from the anniversary on.. John was beside Sherlock in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around him and rubbing his back. "Shh….it's okay Sherlock, calm down. You did fine, you didn't fail me. You could never fail me. I'm just so sorry I made you worry."

They stayed that way until Sherlock had calmed. When John pulled back to look him in the eye, Sherlock sheepishly apologised. "I am sorry John. I seem to have gotten carried away. It's happening a lot with you lately and I can't seem to control it. It is quite distracting"

John smiled, "Well we both knew bonding was a mystery when we decided to do it, different for every couple. We knew it would bring about some changes we couldn't expect or prepare for at the outset. I suppose your instincts becoming stronger is one of those things, and it's not bad either. I know I complain but honestly….I kind of like it. At least part of me does," he added that qualifier quickly at the last.

Sherlock cocked his brow and gave John a crooked smirk, "Oh Really! Tell me then, what has changed for you?"

John had to think for a moment. They had both spent so many years denying their natural instincts that their bodies were still playing catch-up. John still couldn't bring himself to confess his true feelings about children to Sherlock. It felt too much like acknowledging a weakness. At last he came up with a reply, "The need to have you near is stronger than it ever was before. I am calmer and more content….happier, when you are next to me." Catching Sherlock's gaze he made one intimate confession, "Even in the hospital….before I woke up, I was aware of your presence beside me. I recognized your scent and it grounded me in the darkness…..calmed me. It...it helped."

Sherlock couldn't help but be touched by that confession. Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he placed a soft kiss to John's lips and then cradled him to his chest once more. "Well, for that alone then, I am grateful to be your bonded mate."

They sat in comfortable silence until John's stomach began to grumble. "Sorry, didn't really eat lunch I guess," he apologized to Sherlock.

"Well, I would say this calls for take-away then. Wouldn't you?" grinned Sherlock.

"Take-away it is," John happily replied. "Mm...Chinese? And after that, **you** can get out there and solve that case for Greg." Sherlock began to object but John cut him off quickly. "Sherlock, I am fine. I will eat and stay home, watch some telly and probably be in bed before you even finish the case. I will be perfectly safe. I know the case is still nagging you. Beneath the instincts, your brain is still turning over details and deductions. You won't be satisfied until you solve it and you know I'm right. Have something to eat with me and then you need to go."

Sherlock stared at John in silence for so long it was making him uncomfortable. "What?! What is it Sherlock?!"

Sherlock shook himself and replied, "I just never thought I would have someone who understood me so well. That I would welcome that closeness with any person. Just realizing how happy I am that I did just that with you. You John, you're the only one."

John couldn't stop the faint blush that rose to his cheeks at such a romantic notion from Sherlock. "Oh...well...thank you then. I am very happy to have you as well." Another kiss to Sherlock's cheek and John was pulling him up off the sofa, "Now let's get that take-away. I'm hungry my mate….provide for me!" John laughed at Sherlock's expression and headed off to the shower knowing the food would be here by the time he got out.

The rest of the evening was calm, going much as John had said. Dinner then telly while Sherlock was off on the case, John finally heading to bed when he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. In the pre-dawn hours, John roused groggy to a dip in the bed followed by a long arm wrapping around his waist and a lean body pressing close to his back. Placing his arm over the one at his side, lacing his fingers into the hand there and bringing it up to lie flat against his chest, John mumbled, "Solved it then?"

He received a sleepy, "Mm-uhm," and a warm kiss to the nape of his neck. That was all they required before drifting off to sleep in each others arms. Things still weren't normal but they were getting better. They would be alright together eventually.


End file.
